


Oh My God, They Were Roommates

by infinite_on_high



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Angst, College AU, M/M, Pete is really gay, Roommates, and some fluff too i’m not a monster, dont worry though its not anything graphic, heart-crushing life-ruining angst, self harm (like... a lot I’m sorry), there’s some vague mentions of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-03-10 01:04:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 27,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13493589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infinite_on_high/pseuds/infinite_on_high
Summary: In which Pete And Patrick become roommates, Pete is gay and emo, Patrick is nerdy and oblivious, and Gabe is the obligatory shitty ex.





	1. Chapter 1

Patrick was watching the door. Whoever his roommate was going to be was about to walk through the door any minute. And that was stressing Patrick out quite a bit. After his old roommate had transferred to a different building, Patrick had been informed that he’d get a new one in a few weeks. Like an idiot, he’s spent those few weeks just enjoying having the room to himself instead of doing the reasonable thing and preparing his soul for whoever was going to be his roommate. Sure, the best case scenario was that his new roommate would be a perfectly normal and decent human being. Unfortunately, the best case scenario never seemed to be the scenario that played out in Patrick’s life, so with his luck his new roommate would probably be a drug dealer or something like that.

There was a knock at the door. Patrick went to open it, but apparently whoever was knocking already had a key and wound up opening the door into Patrick’s face. He rubbed his eyes as whoever it was that had just walked in apologized profusely. When Patrick’s face started working again, he actually looked at who exactly it was that had just hit him with a door.

This guy was very short, almost as short as Patrick. He was wearing way more eyeliner than Patrick had ever seen a guy wear, and he also sported a pair of ultra-skinny jeans to boot. His jet-black hair was covered by a red hoodie, and there was a genuine smile on his face.

“Again, I’m super sorry I hit you with that door,” he said. “I’m Pete. I’m your new roommate.”

Patrick reached out his hand for a handshake, only to have it immediately slapped away by Pete.

“That was meant to be a high-five, wasn’t it,” Patrick said, rolling his eyes.

Pete nodded.

“In that case, we both suck at high-fives.”

Pete blushed. “Yup.”

Then he walked over to his side of the room and started unpacking.

Considering he’d been expecting a drug dealer or something, Patrick figured Pete didn’t seem that bad. In fact, apart from his odd fashion sense, he seemed relatively normal.

After Pete had finished unpacking his stuff, he sat on his bed and started doing something on his phone. Patrick was relieved to know that his roommate wasn’t that weird. In fact, the only unexpected thing about Pete so far was that he was gay.

This wasn’t just Patrick stereotyping him either. Sure, Pete did wear skinny jeans and way too much eyeliner, but Patrick wasn’t going to judge. However, Pete did proudly hang a rainbow flag above his bed.

“Are you okay with me putting this here?” he had asked Patrick before hanging it up.

“Of course,” Patrick had replied. “No problem at all.”

“Good.”

“So are you actually gay, or are you just supporting gays or whatever?” Patrick didn’t want to seem nosy, he was just genuinely curious.

“Of course I’m gay,” Pete had told him. “Who do you think I am?”

“I mean, considering I met you half an hour ago, I didn’t exactly have many expectations.”

“Fair enough.”

“So why’d you switch dorms?” Patrick asked. “Or is this your first one?”

“I came out to my old roommate and he was being a dick about it. So I moved,” Pete explained.

“That sucks,” Patrick said. “And you decided to like, come out to me right away so you could make sure I wasn’t like him?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Pete replied. “Anyway, I’m going out with some friends tonight, if you wanna come.”

“Nah, I’d just get in the way or whatever. Besides, parties scare me. There’s too many people, and someone always has beer or weed and then everything goes downhill from there.”

“I mean, you’re not wrong. But I kind of like it.”

“If you like it, then go for it. I’m not gonna judge.”

“Okay then.”

It was the weekend, and Patrick had some homework to do, so he and Pete left each other alone. Pete sat on his bed, not really knowing what to do for the time being. Weirdly enough, he started thinking about Patrick. About how sweet and kind of hot his new roommate was. However, Pete felt a bit weird about having feelings for his roommate, so he tried not to think about it that much. Falling in love with Patrick would just be weird. Especially after he’d just broken up with his former boyfriend.

The thing was, Pete had lied to Patrick about why he’d needed a new roommate. His old roommate wasn’t homophobic at all. In fact, his old roommate was also his old boyfriend, Gabe.  
Gabe had been… quite an interesting guy. He was cool and all, and was (Pete had to admit) more than alright in bed, but in the end it just wasn’t a thing that would have worked out. There was a reason Pete had been so surprised when Patrick had declined his invitation to come to that party, considering Gabe had been basically the king of parties at least when he and Pete were together. Gabe would get drunk or high (or both if that was even possible), he would flirt with everyone he saw, he would dance way too aggressively and wind up breaking things. When he and Pete would go back to their apartment after these parties, they’d usually wind up having some kind of drunk sex (well, Gabe was drunk, Pete usually wasn’t), and Pete would either enjoy it way too much given the situation or wind up having a (probably unrelated) mental breakdown and ruining it for Gabe. Actually, it had been one of said mental breakdowns that had caused their breakup in the first place. The breakup was definitely a long time coming anyway. Not that Pete didn’t enjoy being with Gabe when he wasn’t drunk, and sometimes even when he was, but sometimes things just went to far. And it wasn’t just Gabe that was the problem. Pete had had his fair share of issues during their relationship as well. Sure, he liked to think his problems didn’t affect Gabe as much as Gabe’s problem affected him, but he was probably lying to himself. In the end, it had been Gabe who had broken up with Pete, even though it probably should have been the other way around and also probably should have happened much earlier. Pete still remembered most of how the conversation had gone down.

“Pete, it’s not your fault,” Gabe had said. “Except, you know, it kind of is your fault, alright? People say I’m unstable, but look at you!”

“Unstable? _Unstable?_ Do you even know what that word means?” Pete had shouted back. In hindsight, it may have been a slight overreaction.

“I would use what happened last night as an argument against you but I don’t even think you’d remember it!”

“Oh, I remember perfectly well. You were crying during sex. What’s with that? It’s happened multiple times in a row now. Did you just stop liking dick, or what?”

“I keep telling you, sex isn’t the problem! Sometimes my mind just goes to dark places, and I’m already vulnerable considering the circumstances, so I just start crying, okay? If it’s such a turn off to you, maybe try comforting me like a good boyfriend next time instead of just mocking me.”

“Look, Pete, I’ve tried comforting you. I know you’ve got your issue, and I try my best not to interfere with it because when I do you… you know.”

“What do I do, huh? What is it that I do that’s so horrible you’d rather break up with me than deal with it?”

“I’m not saying I’d rather break up with you than deal with it,” Gabe had explained, his voice suddenly going softer. “The thing is, I know how unstable you are, and I feel like I’m just making it worse.”

“I told you not to call me unstable!” Pete had shouted, choosing to ignore what was actually a genuinely valid point.

“I’m sorry,” Gabe had told him. “But it’s true. I know what’s happening, Pete. And I don’t want to make it worse. Really, I’m doing this to protect you. Find yourself a new roommate. And a new boyfriend, if you want one. Please just go, okay? It’s really not your fault, it’s just that being around me isn’t healthy for you. And I’m sorry I called you unstable.”

Finally Pete had come to his senses. “It’s okay,” he had said. “I get it.”

The next day Gabe had helped Pete pack up his stuff and start moving out of their apartment. Pete had apologized for yelling at Gabe, and Gabe had apologized for making fun of Pete. Their relationship had sort of ended on a happy note, but they had still decided they wouldn’t talk to each other much anymore. Just in case things got toxic again.

Pete left for the party at around eight. Patrick was already getting tired with the combination of homework and the general chaos of Pete moving in. He had given Pete his phone number and said to call him if there were any problems, but he figured Pete would just call someone else if he ran into trouble. It was only 9:30 when Patrick fell asleep. He hadn’t finished his homework, but he figured there’d be time the next day, so he didn’t think much of it. Also, he hoped that Pete wouldn’t call him about anything, since his phone ringing would definitely not be enough to wake him up.

Pete had taken a cab to the party. Sure, it was expensive, but it was faster than walking and he didn’t have his own car, so he decided to deal with it. The party was in someone’s basement. Actually, it was probably their parents’ basement judging by the general blandness of the rest of the house. Pete didn’t really feel like talking to anyone. Or dancing. He wasn’t even sure why he’d gone to this party in the first place. Someone announced that they had weed, and Pete was considering going home when he heard someone call his name.

“Pete? Pete, is that you?”

He recognized the voice, and even though he knew it was a bad idea, he turned around.  
“Hey, Gabe.”

Gabe was standing with another guy that Pete didn’t know. They were holding hands. Pete was really not surprised by this.

“So how’s the roommate situation going?” Gabe asked, not bothering to introduce his new partner. “Is he cool? Is he hot?”

“It’s going fine,” Pete replied. “He’s… normal. And probably straight, so don’t even ask.”

“Bummer,” Gabe sighed. “I was hoping you could find someone else to, you know, cry on while you have sex.”

Gabe’s partner laughed silently at that. Pete glared at Gabe.

“Fuck you,” he told him. “You know, I really thought you were a decent guy, with how you apologized and said you were doing everything to protect me and all that shit. Now I’m really not so sure.”

“Oh, Pete, I didn’t mean it like that!” Gabe said defensively. “It was a joke. Honest.”

“Not funny.”

“I’m really sorry,” Gabe apologized. He sounded sincere enough. “Anyway, lighten up! It’s a fucking party, we should go dance or smoke some weed or something.”

“Gabe, come on.”

“You come on! It’ll be fun, I swear.”

And with that, Gabe began practically dragging Pete around the basement with one hand while still holding his new boyfriend’s hand with the other.

Of all the things Patrick had expected from a new roommate, being woken up at 12:30 in the morning with a question about treating burns was not one of them. But lo and behold, this was exactly what happened.

Pete was awkwardly tapping Patrick on the shoulder and whispering in his ear in an effort to wake him up. He did eventually awaken, a bit surprised to see Pete standing over him with his sleeves rolled up. For a moment, Patrick thought something horrible was about to happen, but then Pete quietly whispered to him:

“I’m really sorry I woke you up at this hour, but do you have any idea how to treat burns?”

Patrick had a lot of questions, namely “what the hell did you do”, “are you high”, and most pressingly “why didn’t you just look this up on your phone”, but he was too tired to bother asking questions. So he just nodded and led Pete to the bathroom.

He didn’t even bother turning on the light, just turned on the cold water and told Pete to put his arms under it while he looked for band-aids or something. The burns on Pete’s arms didn’t even look that bad, just a few spots here and there. They probably wouldn’t even leave scars.

“So I bet you’re wondering what happened,” Pete asked a bit too loudly.

“No,” Patrick whispered back. “And keep it down, you’re going to wake up everyone in the building.”

“Sorry,” Pete replied, this time more quietly. 

“Anyway, there was weed at the party, and I’m terrible at using matches, so this happened. On accident.”

“Yeah, I figured it was something like that,” Patrick said, shaking his head. He looked under the sink for bandages, found them, and briefly questioned why he kept them there. However, he was too tired to really wonder about that, so he just handed Pete the box.

“Do this yourself. I’m going to sleep.”

“Okay?” Pete seemed a bit confused, but Patrick figured he was probably just tired. Or maybe high.

Patrick heard Pete crawl into bed a few minutes later. He really hoped that the next day would be less stressful. And also that Pete wouldn’t wake him up in the middle of the night again. There was one other thing messing with Patrick’s mind at the moment, though.

When he’d looked in the cabinet under the sink, he could have sworn there’d been matches in the wastebasket. Meaning if Pete had been smoking weed, it would have been in his room. But that didn’t make any sense. It didn’t even smell like weed.

There probably weren’t even any matches in the wastebasket. It was dark, and Patrick was tired. He must have imagined it.


	2. Chapter 2

Patrick didn’t get much sleep the next few nights. Every morning he’d be rudely awakened by Pete walking around the room at three AM as if it was a perfectly normal time to be awake. Sure, Patrick could understand waking up early, but he was begging to think Pete just didn’t sleep at all.

Other than his weird sleeping habits and the incident on the first night, though, Pete seemed to be adjusting pretty well. At the very least he and Patrick hadn’t gotten into any arguments yet. Really, it just seemed like Pete wanted Patrick to like him. Patrick figured Pete was just overcompensating considering his last roommate had been a jerk, and everything would be relatively normal in a few days.

Still, the whole waking up early thing was getting to be an issue.

Because of Pete’s weird sleep schedule, Patrick had gotten about ten hours of sleep in total since he’d moved in. He was about to fall asleep during a lecture when his friend Andy woke him up.

“Are you okay?” Andy asked him.

“Yeah, I’m just tired. My new roommate keeps waking me up at three in the morning,” Patrick explained.

“Why?”

“I don’t think he means to. He just doesn’t sleep that much, I guess. Or he’s just getting used to the new place. Either way, I’m gonna talk to him about today.”

“Good luck.” He smiled at Patrick. Patrick smiled back.

Patrick liked Andy. He was smart, and he didn’t talk a lot. Ideally Patrick would have been roommates with him, except Andy already had an apartment with his girlfriend. So Patrick was stuck with whatever lonely loser happened to be looking for a roommate until that person moved in with someone else. Since he didn’t actually have that many friends, Patrick didn’t exactly have his pick of roommates. And frankly, he was willing to put up with whoever was living with him at any given time. Pete was no exception to this either. Actually, considering all of the much more questionable roommates Patrick had lived with in the past, he was more than happy to be living with Pete.

Pete was also more than happy to be living with Patrick. Even though he still didn’t know much about him, Pete considered Patrick a friend. At least, enough of a friend that he’d have no problem calling him if he was drunk and needed a ride. Not really enough of a friend that he’d tell him anything personal or anything. Pete wasn’t even sure if he had anyone who was that kind of friend to him. Sure, there had been Gabe, but that relationship was definitely a thing of the past. It had also taught Pete that telling someone everything is probably a bad idea.

That wasn’t to say that Pete didn’t have friends, though. He decided to have lunch with his friend Joe that day, in fact.

“So, how’s the new room situation working out?” Joe asked.

“Uhh… it’s alright, I guess? I mean, Patrick is cool and all. And I guess he’s kind of cute, but that part isn’t important.” Pete replied.

“He’s cute?” Joe repeated, raising his eyebrows.

“Well… and straight, probably. Besides, I decided I’m not dating anyone right now.”

“You’re still upset over Gabe, aren’t you?”

“Am I not supposed to be? I mean, I loved him. Sure, he wasn’t the best person in the world, but still. It hurt a lot when he dumped me.”

“I’m not saying you can’t be upset over him! All I’m saying is it’s been what, two weeks since you guys broke up? And you said so yourself, he was kind of a jerk. You can move on. It’s okay.”

“It’s not about him, though. He’s already found someone else to have his weird drunk sex with anyway. I just want to be alone right now. Let my emotions stew around for a while, you know?”

“First of all, I’m pretty sure stewing in your own emotions for too long is a bad thing. Second of all, maybe finding someone else will make this better! You’ll never know if you don’t try.”

“So what, I’m just supposed to sleep around until I find a boyfriend that doesn’t make me feel like garbage?”

“That’s not what I said, Pete. And come on, surely it wasn’t all Gabe’s fault that you felt like garbage? I know there’s something else up with you, Pete. I’ve seen you taking pills.”

“Dude, don’t say that. It’s creepy as hell. And it’s not what you think, okay? I have… stomach problems. Even if it was what you were thinking, it doesn’t mean Gabe wasn’t bad! Maybe he wasn’t all bad, but he definitely wasn’t all good either.”

“Okay, okay, so maybe Gabe really was bad. But still, I’m worried about you, Pete! You just broke up with someone who you admit you loved even if he was kind of toxic, you’re refusing to let yourself find someone else to be with, and even if those pills weren’t what I thought I’m still pretty sure there’s something up with you, alright? I just want to know if you’re okay. That’s what friends are for.”

“I mean, you’re right, but just trust me. I’m fine! Look at this face. Does this face look ‘not fine’ to you?”

Pete pointed at his face dramatically. Joe laughed.  
“Alright, man. I believe you. But you know you can talk to me if you ever have a problem, okay?”  
“Okay.” 

Of course, Pete didn’t really have stomach problems. Joe was right- the pills he saw Pete taking were antidepressants. But Pete wasn’t going to tell him that. As he’d learned from his whole thing with Gabe, talking about that part of his life definitely wouldn’t end well. Also, as he thought about everything he told Gabe, Pete started to worry. What if Gabe decided to tell the whole world about all the things Pete had confessed to him? Pete’s life would be ruined. He would become some sort of walking exhibit for people to gawk at and wonder why he was so messed up.

Later that day, Pete and Patrick were both sitting in their room doing homework when Patrick decided to ask Pete about the whole sleeping issue.

“Pete, I don’t want to seem nosy or anything, but why are you always up so early in the morning?”

“Oh, I guess… I don’t need very much sleep, really. Why?”

“I was wondering if you could maybe try not doing that from now on? You keep waking me up, and it’s getting a bit irritating.”

“Yeah, okay. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.”

Pete felt a lot worse about this than he probably should have. It was his fault Patrick wasn’t getting enough sleep. He was a terrible roommate, he was a terrible person, he was going to ruin everything-

This was probably what Joe was talking about when he said it was bad for Pete to keep all his feelings stewing inside him. Maybe he really should take Joe’s advice and find a new boyfriend. Sure, it might not making things better, but it couldn’t get any worse, could it?

“Hey Patrick, are you gay?” Pete asked on a whim, then immediately regretted it.

Patrick seemed really confused by the question. “I don’t think so. Why?”

“So if I asked you out, you’d say no.” Pete figured he was already too far into this rabbit hole and decided to keep up the conversation.

“I mean, I’m not sure. We’ve known each other for like, three days. And anyway, don’t you already have a boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Really? I heard someone say you were dating some guy named Gabe.”

Pete shuddered. He was definitely not up for discussing that relationship with anyone anymore, especially someone he barely knew. “No, we broke up a while ago,” he explained, hoping Patrick wouldn’t ask any further questions.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Patrick said sympathetically.

“It’s fine,” Pete told him. “That breakup was a long time coming anyway.”

“So you didn’t love each other?”

“I mean… I guess not? I thought I loved him, but I’m not sure why now that I think about it.” Pete caught himself starting to spill his guts, but for whatever reason he didn’t stop. “He was really sweet to me sometimes, but then other times he’d mock me when I was upset. God forbid I ever cried in front of him or he’d treat me like a baby. And not in a cute way either; he’d just lead me to my bed and shush me until I stopped.”

“That sounds awful,” Patrick agreed. “But why did you stay with him for so long?”

“I don’t know. I think maybe I just thought I needed someone. Or maybe I just felt like I’d already told him too much.”

“And so now you’re lonely.”

“I think I’d rather have it that way. I deserve it after spending so long with him.”

“Okay. I’ll leave you alone, then.”

“No, that’s not what I meant! I like talking to you, I just meant I don’t know if I’m ready to start seeing anyone else.”

“So why’d you ask me out earlier?”

“I didn’t, did I?”

“You asked if I was gay, and then you asked if I’d date you.”

“Oh yeah. Sorry about that.”

“So you didn’t mean it?”

“I mean, unless you’re up for it.”

Patrick looked at Pete for a moment. In that moment, he saw the loneliness on Pete’s face, and the lovestruck look in his eyes. He was obviously desperate for affection (and probably a bit messed up after the relationship he’d just been through).

“You have a crush on me, don’t you.”

“Crush?” Pete deflected. “What are we, middle schoolers? I’m not stupid enough to fall for someone that quickly.”

“Sorry. It’s just that… you were kind of giving off that vibe, alright?”

“Is this about me being gay? What, you think I can’t get within ten feet of another guy without falling head over heels for him? Is that really what you think of me?”

“No! No, of course not! But like, you literally asked if I’d date you. What kind of vibe do you think that gave off?”

“I don’t know, alright? And in my defense, you never actually answered that question.”

“Fine. No, I wouldn’t date you. Because I barely know you, Pete. Maybe if we actually got to know each other or something, but in the meantime, no.”

“Okay. That’s okay. That’s fine.”

But Patrick could tell it wasn’t fine. He could see tears in Pete’s eyes, even though Pete was trying to hide them.

Pete lied on his bed and stared up at the ceiling. He felt rejected. Even though he hadn’t actually asked Patrick out, even though he didn’t even want a new boyfriend anyway. Actually, maybe he did want a new boyfriend. Maybe he’d been lying to himself, and he really did need love right now. Pete grabbed his phone and opened up the message app. His hand shook as he clicked on Gabe’s name. He typed out a message (“i still love you. please can we get back together?”) and hesitated a bit before sending it, wondering if he was really that desperate.

“Hey Pete?” Patrick’s voice interrupted his train of thought. Pete came to his senses and turned off his phone. He couldn’t believe he had really been about to go crawling back to Gabe. It disgusted him, really.

“What’s up?” he asked Patrick. He sat up, hoping to make it look like he hadn’t been as upset as he was.

“I was… thinking about what you said,” Patrick explained. He sat down next to Pete on the bed.

“Oh no.”

“No, it’s alright!” he laughed. “I was just thinking, if you really need someone… I’m always here, you know?”

“You mean, you’d be my boyfriend?”

“Not really… more like an emotional support friend, I guess. Like, if you need a hug or something like that.”

“Okay,” Pete said, nodding. “Can I have a hug?”

Patrick awkwardly put his arms around Pete. Pete leaned all the way into the hug, resting his head on Patrick’s shoulder and crying a bit into his cardigan.

“Are you gonna be okay?” Patrick asked.

“Yeah,” Pete assured him, pulling out of the hug. “I’ll be just fine. Don’t worry about me.”


	3. Chapter 3

It was just a hug. That was all it was. A short hug, really. Patrick had held Pete for a few seconds, and Pete had cried his feelings out a bit, and then Patrick had left him alone.

But the way Pete felt afterwards, it could easily have been something much more. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed that: having someone hold him and comfort him. Just feeling the warmth of having someone close to him made him far more happy than it probably should have. What was wrong with him? It was a fucking hug.

He lied down on his bed again and thought about Patrick. The more he thought about him, the more perfect he seemed. As much as Pete hated to admit it, Patrick was probably right. Pete had a massive crush on him. But how could he not fall for Patrick? Patrick, with his gentle face and shimmering eyes and beautiful golden-brown hair. It made Pete laugh a bit in spite of himself; it sounded so overly romantic.

Pete never thought of himself as the romantic type. Really, he sort of just fell for guys out of the blue with no real rhyme or reason. Sure, he did consider himself somewhat of a poet, but not the kind of poet that wrote about blue skies and beaches and young love. His poems were about heartache and sadness and pain and blood. And he would never let anyone see them, considering if anyone ever did see them they’d probably drive him straight to the nearest mental hospital. He hated that part of himself, the part that was full of darkness and needed to spill it all into a notebook that he would inevitably cry over later. The darkness hurt him, it tore into him, it threatened to suffocate him. That’s why he needed someone. To distract himself from that darkness.

And for whatever reason, he wanted so badly for that person to be Patrick. Patrick was like a bright star to Pete’s darkness. He was the great, shining moon in Pete’s awful, awful night. He was-

Pete stopped himself before it could get too ridiculous. He had to remind himself that he didn’t actually have a chance with Patrick. How stupid was he that he could go from a hug to seeing someone as his guiding light?

How desperate was he?

The next day, Pete talked to Joe again. He really didn’t want Joe to ask any more questions about his love life, but considering Joe was Joe and they didn’t really have much else to talk about, it was sort of inevitable.

“So have you asked Patrick out yet?”

“No! I told you, I don’t like him like that. We’re just roommates. And I’m not even looking for a new boyfriend. I told you I’m still getting over Gabe.”

“Pete, really. You have to move on. Gabe was a dick, and now he’s with someone else. He doesn’t matter anymore. I’m not saying you have to get with Patrick, but you have to move on from Gabe.”

“I don’t have to move on. Yeah, he was kind of a dick, but I still miss him.”

“But why?”

“I just miss… having someone.”

“Then why not find someone else?”

“You don’t understand, alright? Gabe wasn’t just someone. He was special.”

“He was also abusive, Pete! And the sooner you admit that, the sooner you can move on!”

Pete paused. He had never thought of Gabe as abusive. Insensitive, sure, maybe a bit rude. But definitely not abusive. A part of him wanted to defend Gabe, to tell Joe he had the wrong idea. Then again, maybe Joe had a point.

“I mean, I wouldn’t call him abusive. It wasn’t that I didn’t like being with him, I just didn’t like some of the things he did. Most of it was alright, though.”

“But he dumped you. And replaced you with another guy two days later. Why can’t you let go of him?”

“I don’t know, alright? I just don’t know.”

Joe decided it would be better to leave Pete alone for a while. Even though he didn’t like leaving him alone with his thoughts, it was obvious that talking to him was just making things worse.

As he walked down the hall, he heard someone mention the name Patrick. He recognized the voice: it was Andy. Joe knew Andy; they used to be in a band together back in freshman year. They hadn’t really spoken much since then, but Joe thought Andy would probably remember him. He still had Andy’s number in his phone, so he figured he’d just call him later.

Andy did remember Joe, but he did find it a little weird to be getting a call from someone he hadn’t spoken to since freshman year.

“Joe? What is it?”

“Sorry, I know we haven’t talked in like, forever, but this is important.”

“What’s happening?”

“Okay, so do you know this guy named Patrick?”

“Patrick who?”

“I… don’t know. But my friend Pete has a roommate named Patrick, and I heard you mention someone named Patrick earlier today, so I was wondering if they were the same person.”

“Is Pete that guy you used to bring to band practice because he was sad and then sometimes he’d play bass really badly for us when our bassist was gone?”

“Yeah, it’s that Pete. So do you know his roommate or not?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Well… it’s kind of a long story, but could you maybe convince him to ask Pete out? Like, on a date?”

“Why?”

“It’s important, I swear.”

“So you’re not just playing gay matchmaker because you’re bored?”

“I told you it was important! Just please ask Patrick to do that for me, I promise it’s for a good reason.”

Joe was hesitant to tell Andy about why exactly Pete needed a new boyfriend considering he didn’t want to just tell everyone about what had happened with Gabe. It seemed like something Pete wouldn’t want everyone to know about.

“Okay, I’ll do it. But when Patrick flips out and asks me what the fuck I’m doing, I’ll send him right to you and you’ll have to explain it to him.”

“Alright, that’s fine. Thanks, man.”

“You’re… welcome”

Joe hung up on Andy. At first he was glad he’d done something to help Pete out. Then again, he had just “played gay matchmaker” as Andy had called it for Pete without him knowing. And what if Patrick was really disturbed by his request, or what if Pete turned him down and all of it was meaningless?

 _Whatever,_ Joe thought. _It was worth a shot._

Andy texted Patrick about the situation after Joe had hung up. Well, at least what he knew about the situation.

_Hey Patrick, Joe said you needed to ask Pete out and that it was important. Do you know what he’s talking about?_

_Patrick was confused, and frankly kind of disturbed._

_Who’s Joe?_

_One of Pete’s friends._

_I don’t know what he’s talking about._

_So you don’t know why he wanted you to ask Pete out?_

_No idea, but I guess if it’s really that important I’ll give it a try._

_Cool!_

_I’m not making any promises though. And if Pete gets mad at me I’m blaming Joe._

_Alright then._

The request was a bit weird, sure, but for whatever reason Patrick was more than willing to do it.

Patrick approached Pete nervously. He’d never actually asked anyone out before, so he didn’t know exactly how it worked. There was also the fact that he’d just told Pete yesterday that he didn’t want to be his boyfriend, and Pete might wonder why he had suddenly changed his mind.

Pete was sitting on his bed doing homework, and was surprised to see Patrick.

“Do you need something?” he asked.

“Well… sort of. I was just wondering if…” Patrick couldn’t quite find the words. He was so stressed, even though he kept telling himself it wasn’t really for real and he was just doing it as a favor for someone. “Do you… maybe… I don’t know. I guess what I’m trying to say is… do you want to be my boyfriend?”

Pete had no idea how to react. He should have been happy, but in reality all he was was confused. Everything hit him at once, and it should have been a good thing, but he was having mixed feelings. He wanted to say yes, but it still felt like he would be abandoning Gabe. Then he looked at Patrick, at the kindness in his eyes and at his adorable, perfect face and just at him in general. Pete figured Patrick was at least worth a shot.

“I’d love that,” he replied, shock still coming through in his voice.

“So-um-do you wanna like, kiss?”

“Hell yeah.”

Pete stood up and leaned in close to Patrick. They were both about the same height (very short) so it wasn’t awkward at all. As soon as their lips met it was like they’d kissed a million times before. For someone who apparently had never kissed another guy before, Patrick was amazing. He moved his lips perfectly around Pete’s, and even rested his hands on Pete’s shoulders and pulled him in even closer, and Pete loved it. While he and Patrick kissed, he thought about how much he’d missed stuff like that. It felt amazing, and it had been so long since he’d felt that way; he almost didn’t want it to end. Soon, though, the two of them did eventually move apart, still with their arms around each other and still staring into each other’s eyes. Patrick could see the smudged remnants of eyeliner around Pete’s eyes, and he had to admit it made him look kind of pretty. Actually, it made him look really pretty.

Maybe Patrick had been lying to himself, and he really did think Pete was attractive. At least a little bit, surely. He’d definitely be willing to kiss him again. Pete was a pretty good kisser.

Patrick looked at Pete again and saw that he was crying.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. Instantly he figured he’d done something bad. “Was the kiss not good? I’m so sorry. Maybe we shouldn’t be boyfriends after all.”

“No, no, the kiss was amazing,” Pete assured him. “I was just thinking about how long it’s been since I’ve actually kissed someone, you know? It’s been a while. I’ve missed it a lot.”

“Was I as good as Gabe?”

“You were better. Oh my god, Patrick, you were so much better.” Pete started to cry more. Patrick regretted bringing up Gabe, and he let Pete rest his head on his shoulder. 

Pete was confused. He was delighted to have a boyfriend again of course, but he was also unsure. What if Patrick decided he didn’t really love Pete for some reason. Pete had to admit, there were definitely a lot of reasons someone could decide that. Or worse, what if Patrick turned out like Gabe? What if he got fed up with Pete’s crying and sadness and just general, well, unstableness, and decided he didn’t want to deal with anymore? He pushed the thoughts away, and tried desperately to just be happy about Patrick becoming his boyfriend.

That night, Pete couldn’t sleep. He didn’t usually sleep, but this time was different. Worries about what Patrick thought of him and whether or not he would still like him in a few days plagued his head. All he wanted to do was sleep.

Like a child who’d had a nightmare, he went crying to Patrick in the middle of the night. Even though he remembered Patrick telling him to try not to wake him up, he went to him anyway. To his surprise, Patrick was still awake. At least, he was awake enough that he heard Pete walk over to his bed.

“Pete? What’s wrong? It’s twelve in the morning.”

“I’m so sorry. I just couldn’t sleep and I-I wanted to see you. Since we’re boyfriends and all. Nevermind, I’m being stupid. Sorry I woke you up. I’m horrible. I’ll go back to bed now.”

“No, wait! You’re not horrible. Come here.” Patrick moved over so Pete could lay next to him in his bed. The bed was small, and they were so close together that their faces practically touched. Patrick felt a bit awkward at first, but after a while having Pete right next to him became comforting. Pete wasn’t wearing a shirt, and Patrick could feel his bare chest against him. It was weird, but not entirely unappealing.

“Thank you,” Pete whispered to Patrick. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Patrick replied. And he meant it.

Sure, Patrick hadn’t expected to ever date anyone, much less a guy. But he really did like Pete. Whatever “important reason” that Joe guy had for him to be dating Pete? He didn’t really care about it anymore. Maybe Pete wasn’t the most attractive or most romantic guy out there, but Patrick really did love him. He was sweet. And as Patrick lied in bed next to Pete, not-so-subtly touching his bare chest with one hand, he could see the appeal of being with another guy.

Pete could feel Patrick’s soft hands against his chest. He smiled to himself. It felt amazing. He really hadn’t realized how great it was to be with someone during that few weeks he’d been alone. Now that he had Patrick, he felt happy again for the first time in a while.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for self harm, I’ll put another warning when it happens

Pete and Patrick sat together at lunch that day. Joe noticed, and he walked over to congratulate them.

Before he could say anything, Pete introduced him to Patrick.

“That’s Joe,” Pete told him. “He’s really cool, I swear.”

“Hey, Pete!” Joe called. “And this is…”

“Patrick. My boyfriend,” Pete said excitedly.

“So you guys are dating now?” he asked. Pete and Patrick nodded.

“Patrick asked me out yesterday. And I mean, how could I say no to him? He’s so fucking cute!” Pete exclaimed.

Patrick blushed.

“Well congratulations, you two,” Joe said. Then to Pete, he said, “I’m glad you decided to move on.”

“So am I,” Pete replied.

“Anyway, I gotta go. But good job, both of you!” Joe grinned. Then he rushed away to do whatever it was that he needed to do.

“How did you even meet Joe?” Patrick asked Pete once he was gone.

“We were in a band together back in freshman year,” Pete explained. “I mean, I technically wasn’t in the band, but they needed a replacement bassist and since I knew how to play bass they invited me.”

“I didn’t know you played bass!”

“I mean, I know how. I never said I was actually good at it.”

“Still. If you want you should play something for me sometime.”

“Well, I would if I still had a bass.”

“What do you mean?”

“I may or may not have sold mine.”

“Oh well. I guess maybe you could borrow one from someone else or something?”

“No, it wouldn’t be worth it. It’s not like I was ever any good.”

“Awww, don’t say that. I’m sure you were amazing!”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Later that day, Pete and Patrick were talking again and somehow the subject of Joe came up.

“You know, Joe was the one who convinced me to ask you out,” Patrick said casually.

“I thought you didn’t know him.”

“Well, I don’t. But, see, he told my friend Andy that I should ask you out. And then Andy told me, and I guess I figured why not?”

“Why did Joe want you to ask me out?” Pete’s eyes narrowed.

“He just said it was important.”

“He just wanted me to move on from Gabe.” Pete filled in the blanks by himself.

“I mean, it’s good that he cares about you.”

“But still! It’s not his job to mess with my relationships and stuff!”

“I really do love you though. You know that, right?”

“Yeah. I hope so. Now I’m worried.”

“Please don’t worry. I love you so much.”

“Do you really? Or are you just saying that because Joe and Andy told you to?”

Patrick put his arms around Pete and kissed him on the cheek.

“Of course I love you. Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know.”

Pete sulked off to the bathroom. He didn’t seem angry, just shocked and probably confused as well. Patrick felt bad for telling him about Joe. At least he’d been honest, but Pete seemed really hurt by it. He waited a while for Pete to come back out so he could apologize. After about fifteen minutes of waiting, he realized something must be up.

Patrick knocked on the door. It took him a few tries before Pete finally opened it. They stood in the doorway staring at each other for a few seconds, not saying anything.

Then Patrick screamed.

**[self harm tw for basically the rest of the chapter sorry]**

The glow from the bathroom light pierced through the evening dimness that filled the rest of the dorm room. Pete’s hoodie hung on the door, and his arms were on full display. It had taken a while for Patrick to realize it since he’d been looking at Pete’s face at first, but his arms were dripping with blood. Pete held a razor blade in his hand, and his eyes were red.

“It’s… it’s no big deal, okay?” Pete said quietly. He retreated back into the bathroom away from Patrick. “Nothing that hasn’t happened before. I know how to handle it.”

“I’m so sorry,” Patrick uttered. He didn’t know what to do. He was completely bewildered by the situation.

“This isn’t your fault,” Pete assured him. “I overreacted. I did this to myself. Just leave me alone, okay? I can handle it. Again, I’ve done this before.”

“Yeah,” Patrick nodded. “That’s the worst part.”

He could tell Pete wasn’t lying. Jagged scars cut across his arms all around the new wounds. Even the burns from a few days earlier didn’t look out of place at all. Patrick figured they’d probably gotten there the same way as well, and was mad at himself for not realizing it sooner. If this was what he’d gotten himself into when he asked Pete to be his boyfriend, he wasn’t exactly sure if he was up to that task. But then Patrick thought about what Pete had said about Gabe, how he’d done nothing to comfort Pete when he was upset. Patrick wanted to be better than that.

“Give me that,” he said, his voice soft but very serious. Pete stared at him, his tear-stained eyes full of sadness and shame. He handed Patrick the blade, and Patrick gently set it down on the sink. There was a hint of fear on Pete’s face, as if he was expecting Patrick to scold him or punish him. Instead, Patrick carefully took one of Pete’s arms, grabbed a towel, and tried to mop up some of the blood. Pete seemed confused.

“You know blood is gonna stain that, right?” Pete asked, his words sluggish and pained. Even though it hadn’t occurred to Patrick, he decided he didn’t care. Of course he cared more about Pete than a fucking towel.

“It’s fine,” he said. “All that matters is that you’re okay.” He threw the towel on the ground without much thought (he’d probably end up getting rid of it anyway), and lead Pete out of the bathroom and onto his bed.

“Now you’re going to walk away and leave me alone with my thoughts because you just can’t be bothered, right?” Pete said sarcastically.

“Of course not!” Patrick told him. “I’m not like Gabe. I’ll stay with you as long as you need.”

Even though Patrick was acting like he knew what he was doing, internally he was freaking out. He knew it was his fault that Pete had hurt himself; it had to be his fault since they’d been talking right before Pete had done it. And the guilty look on his face after he’d opened that door was just heart-wrenchingly awful. Pete seemed so ashamed of himself because of those cuts, and that made Patrick want to cry almost as much as the cuts themselves.

Pete layed on the bed with his head resting in Patrick’s lap. He knew how pitiful he looked, curled up on a bed and crying on his boyfriend’s jeans. It was pitiful, really. His hoodie was still hung on the bathroom door, so his arms were fully visible as if to say “look at me, look what I’ve done, look how awful I am”. And Pete knew Patrick was looking at them, even though he didn’t look up to see. Because why wouldn’t he look at Pete’s arms? They still had blood on them from earlier, and they were striped and ugly from years of similar incidents. Pete knew from experience how much people were drawn in by awful stuff like that.

He felt gross. He felt like a monster. He felt the sting of the air against his open wounds and he hated the fact that he liked it. Pete cried even more.

“It’s okay,” Patrick whispered. He rubbed Pete’s back gently, trying to comfort him.

“You know it’s not okay,” Pete whimpered.

“What you did to yourself? Yeah, that was really bad. But I still love you, alright?”

“Alright,” Pete replied. He wiped a tear from his eye. “I love you too. I love you so much.”

Pete lifted his head off Patrick’s lap and sat quietly next to him. The two of them looked at each other for a moment. Patrick smiled sweetly.

“Are you gonna be okay?” Patrick asked.

“Yeah, I think so. I hope so.”

“I hope so too.”

Patrick went to get Pete’s hoodie, then handed it to Pete as soon as he returned.

“Do you want to put this back on?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Pete replied. “It’s cold. And I kind of like it better when no one can see… you know.”

“Makes sense, I guess,” Patrick said sadly.

“Thanks for being here for me.”

“Of course.”

They both went to bed that night, trying to act like nothing had happened.

However, Patrick couldn’t stop thinking about Pete. He loved him so much, and it broke his fucking heart to see him hurt himself like that. Patrick wound up crying himself to sleep thinking about Pete. Everything should have been fine. And he didn’t blame Pete for it at all; he blamed himself more than anything. But now he had this massive thing that he had to deal with along with the rest of Pete. It didn’t feel like a burden, though. More than anything, it just scared him. He hated thinking about it, but he couldn’t keep his mind away.

Pete was still upset from earlier, except it was less about what Patrick said and more about what he’d done. He felt guilty about it, plain and simple. There was also a silver lining, though. Unlike Gabe, Patrick was so caring and loving when he saw what Pete had done. Patrick didn’t nonchalantly tuck him into bed and tell him to stop crying; he let Pete sob his feelings out and was there for him the whole time. Pete loved Patrick so much. Sure, maybe after Gabe his standards weren’t exactly high, but Patrick still felt special to Pete. He smiled as he fell asleep that night, thinking about the love of his life.


	5. Chapter 5

With all the chaos of the previous evening, both Pete and Patrick at least tried to sleep in late. For Pete, that involved lying in bed fully awake, scaring himself by thinking up scenarios in which Patrick decided he didn’t love him anymore. Not exactly relaxing, but Pete couldn’t help himself. Once he heard Patrick get out of bed, he used it as an excuse to stop thinking and finally go talk to him.

Patrick saw Pete walk into the room, still wearing his hoodie and jeans from yesterday. His face was sullen, and there was smudgy eyeliner around his eyes. It made him look sad and tired, but somehow Patrick still found him cute. He gave Pete a quick kiss on the cheek, causing Pete’s face to brighten almost instantly.

“How are you feeling?” Patrick asked him.

“Better, I guess,” Pete replied. Sure, he didn’t feel that much better, but at least it was something. He still felt bad about Patrick finding out about his issue, though. Now Patrick was going to worry, and there was still the possibility that he wouldn’t love Pete as much because of it.

Considering it was the weekend, both of them could essentially stay in their dorm room all day, either doing homework or just sitting around. Or, in Pete’s case, lying in bed having a crisis thinking about what had happened yesterday. Sure, it wasn’t the most appealing thing ever to spend the day staring at a wall wishing he could just be happy, but what was he going to do about it?

“I… actually think I’m gonna go back to sleep,” Pete told Patrick.

“Alright. I love you.”

“Love you too, babe.”

Babe? That had kind of come out of nowhere. Pete had never called anyone that before. Not even Gabe. It felt a little weird, but once Pete saw Patrick smiling sweetly and seemingly unfazed by it he decided it was no big deal. He went back to bed and took off his jeans. Pete opted to keep his hoodie on, partly because of how cold it was and also because he didn’t want to have to look at his arms and face what he’d done.

He pulled the blankets tightly around himself and briefly tried to go back to sleep, even though he knew that was pointless. A part of him wished Patrick was there with him, to cuddle with him and comfort him. Pete remembered that first night where the two of them slept in the same bed. Patrick had been so soft and warm, and the way the two of them just fit together made Pete so happy. But still, another part of him wanted to be alone with his thoughts. To dwell in the pain of the previous night and let it all sink in. Sure, it wasn’t exactly comforting or enjoyable in any way, but for whatever reason Pete wanted it, needed it even. Eventually, however, he gave into that first part and got out of bed to find Patrick.

Patrick was shocked to see Pete returning a few minutes after he had left, only this time wearing only boxers and a hoodie and also somehow looking even more tired than before. Well, he was a bit shocked, but definitely not surprised. The image of Pete in his underwear was not exactly unexpected. Hell, it wasn’t really unwelcome either.

“Hey Patrick?” Pete asked awkwardly. “Do you wanna… cuddle?” He felt so stupid. It was such a dumb question to ask, he was pretty sure Patrick would just laugh it off.

“Awww, I’d love that!” Patrick replied. “Let’s go cuddle.”

Pete beamed.

They crawled into bed together, and Patrick put his arm around Pete and held him close. For whatever reason, Pete was overwhelmed. He didn’t deserve this, he didn’t deserve to be cared for or comforted or loved. Pete cried softly, trying to mask the sounds with his pillow. The last thing he wanted was for Patrick to hear him and worry about him even more.

“Are you okay?” Patrick whispered in his ear.

Pete didn’t reply. He just sunk his face deeper into the pillow and cried even harder. Patrick had noticed. Now he was going to worry and it was all Pete’s fault. He’d ruined everything, just like always.

“It’s okay,” Patrick said softly. “I’m here for you. I love you.”

Everything Patrick said just made Pete more upset. It made him feel guilty because Patrick really did care about him, and not only did he not even deserve it, he’d also doubted it yesterday and had hurt himself because of it. He felt so ungrateful.

“I love you too,” Pete sobbed, his voice muffled by the pillow. “I love you so much, and I’m sorry about everything.”

That night, Patrick heard Pete scream.

It wasn’t a scream of terror by any means, more of a sorrowful wail. The sound woke Patrick up, and as soon as he got over his initial confusion he felt the need to check on Pete. Who wouldn’t, really, after hearing that?

Pete was curled up in his bed, clutching the sheets the way a child holds a security blanket. He was shaking erratically, possibly from crying but it could also be fear, or even just cold. Patrick reached out a hand to comfort him, but upon touching him Pete recoiled, whimpering and clinging onto the blankets even more tightly.

“Pete?” Patrick asked. Worry clung to his words which he didn’t intend. “What’s wrong?”

“Get away from me,” Pete demanded. His voice was shaky, but there was a certain seriousness and urgency to it as well. It caught Patrick off guard.

“Did I do something?” he said defensively.

“I said, get away from me,” Pete repeated. There was more fear in it this time. Patrick found it odd. He was pretty sure he hadn’t done anything to scare Pete, and besides, Pete had been screaming and holding onto his blankets in terror before Patrick had even arrived.

“I-I’m sorry,” Patrick said. “I’ll leave you alone. Don’t worry.”

Pete apparently didn’t hear him. In fact, he was probably still asleep, still dreaming.

“Please just-just go away. Let me be. Please.” He was just begging at this point; the edge on his voice was entirely gone.

At this point Patrick was sure none of what Pete was saying was directed at him, and there was really no point in trying to wake him up either, so he just quietly walked back to his own bed. He tried to sleep that night, he really did. But he could still hear Pete. Even if he couldn’t make out the words, what he heard scared him. Pete was obviously afraid; it was almost like something was hurting him. Patrick wanted it to stop, both so he could sleep and so Pete could be okay.

The next morning, Patrick went to find Pete as soon as he woke up. Of course Pete was already awake, sitting at the table and drinking coffee. There were dark circles around his eyes, which could have just been smudged eyeliner but were probably from lack of sleep. He didn’t even notice when Patrick walked in; all he did was keep on staring off into the distance and slowly sipping his coffee. Patrick sat down across from him.

“Good morning, Pete,” he said gently. Pete’s eyes snapped into focus and he turned to look at Patrick.

“Hey,” he replied meekly.

“Are you okay?” Patrick asked. “You were screaming in your sleep last night.”

“I was?” Pete said half to himself. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry!” Patrick told him. “It’s not your fault. Just a nightmare or whatever.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you… usually have nightmares?” It sounded sympathetic, but Patrick was also partially hoping the answer was no so he wouldn’t have to listen to Pete cry all night again.

“I mean, I’ve had them since I was a little kid. It’s not usually like that, though.”

Patrick breathed a small sigh of relief. He reached across the table to hold Pete’s hand. Pete blushed. His eyes had the most silly, lovestruck look about them, as if no one had ever held his hand before. It was adorable, but also a bit sad.

“Well, if you ever have a nightmare again, you can always sleep in my bed,” Patrick offered, making Pete blush even harder.

“Yeah, I-I’d like that,” he said. He couldn’t help but imagine it: him and Patrick pressed close together in that bed, Patrick’s hand on his chest just like that first night, his breath warm against Pete’s face. God, he wanted it so badly.

The rest of the day was fairly uneventful, until Pete got a text from Joe.

_hey dude im throwing a party you should come_

Even though Pete was still tired as hell, he felt bad turning Joe down.

_sure i guess_

_you should bring Patrick_

_why?_

_idk man it’ll be fun. you two can dance or make out in a corner or whatever_

_shut the fuck up_

_im just saying you should bring him. come on it’ll be fun_

_fine, i’ll ask him_

“Hey Patrick?” Pete asked, not even looking up from his phone.

“What?”

“Joe’s throwing a party tonight. You wanna go with me?”

“I dunno, Pete. You know I don’t like parties.”

“Yeah, but it’ll be fun, don’t worry. Besides, Joe’s apartment is really small. There’s no way he could have invited that many people.”

“Look, I’ll do it for you. But if it gets too chaotic, we’re going home.”

“Deal.”

Neither of them did much of anything before the party. There wasn’t really anything to do. Pete did apply yet another layer of eyeliner, because of course he did. Then the two of them took a cab to Joe’s apartment. The cab driver kept giving them a dirty look, and they made sure to stay a few inches apart in the backseat so someone could easily assume they were just friends. This irked Pete way more than it probably should have, and as soon as they got out of the cab he made absolutely sure to walk as close to Patrick as possible all the way up to Joe’s apartment.

They weren’t exactly early to the party, and Joe’s apartment was already packed with people. Patrick looked a bit uncomfortable, but Pete held his hand tightly in an effort to make him feel better.

“So what’s the point of parties anyway?” Patrick asked cynically, nearly shouting over the music.

“Umm, I’m pretty sure it’s dancing, mostly. Or talking to people, but that’s less fun.”

“This isn’t really fun either.”

“Come on, ‘Trick, give it a chance! For me.”

“Fine.”

The speaker setup wasn’t exactly glorious; it was really just a boombox hooked up to an iPod. But the music itself was okay, and there was beer, so the party had the potential to be alright.

However, Patrick was just starting to actually get into it when Pete started freaking out.

“Hide me,” he whispered, trying to get behind Patrick. It obviously wasn’t working.

“What’s going on?” Patrick asked.

“Gabe’s here.”

“No he’s not. Joe wouldn’t invite both of you. He knows what happened with you guys.” But Patrick didn’t know what Gabe looked like, so Pete could definitely be right.

“But I saw him. He was right over there.”

“Hold on, I’ll go ask Joe.”

Patrick went off to look for Joe, and Pete followed awkwardly behind him like a duckling.

“Joe!” Patrick shouted across the room. Joe turned around and walked over to him.

“What do you need?” he asked. Then, noticing Pete cowering behind him, he added, “Hi, Pete.”

“Hey,” Pete replied, trying his best to act normally.

“Did you invite Gabe to this party?” Patrick demanded.

“No? Why the hell would I do that?”

“Pete said he saw him.”

“Pete must’ve seen someone else. I wouldn’t do that, you know. I care more about Pete than having one extra person at my party. Who are you, anyway?”

“I’m Patrick!” Patrick yelled. “You know, the guy you told to ask Pete out specifically because you wanted to help him get over Gabe?”

“Wait- you’re Patrick?” Joe exclaimed.

“Who did you think I was?”

“I don’t know. I just- when I pictured you in my mind this was… not what I imagined. I mean, you’re… not really Pete’s type. No offense.”

“What do you know about Pete’s ‘type’, anyway?” Usually Patrick would have been polite, but he was already angry about Gabe, so he got defensive.

“Nothing! It’s just that most of the guys Pete’s dated were, you know…”

“No, I don’t know! What were they?”

“They were like Gabe! Skinny guys a foot taller than you. So when I pictured you, I always pictured that, okay? Why the hell are we even talking about this?”

“I don’t fucking know! You brought it up! Now why the hell did you invite Gabe? Are you trying to create some kind of gay reality show? Is this funny or something?”

“No! I didn’t invite Gabe! He must have showed up on his own.”

“How?”

“Maybe someone else told him about the party. I don’t know. Go ask him.”

“Did someone say my name?”

Gabe casually walked right into their conversation, new boyfriend in tow. Pete wanted to cry. He regretted not listening to Patrick earlier and just staying home.

“Gabe?” Joe said, confused. “I didn’t invite you.”

“You invited William,” Gabe argued. “And you told him he should bring his boyfriend. So by extension, you invited me.”

“Fucking hell,” Joe sighed. “Come on, William. You never said you were dating this idiot.”

“You never asked,” William piped up.

“Yeah, I guess so. But still.”

“Still what?”

“Come on, Gabe! Why can’t you just stay away from Pete? You’ve both got new boyfriends, there’s no reason to go following him around and tormenting him, okay?

“I didn’t even know Pete was here.”

Joe was silent for a minute. Before he could think of something to say, though, Patrick punched Gabe in the face.

Everyone stared at them in either horror or confusion. The punch had been pretty weak, considering Patrick had never actually fought anyone before and Gabe was also a foot taller than him so it was pretty hard to actually land a punch. Gabe looked down at Patrick, who was still standing guard in front of Pete. He braced himself for impact, but Gabe didn’t fight back.

“What the fuck?” he asked. It wasn’t angry, it was just slightly pissed off. It made Patrick even more upset; the punch had barely gazed Gabe.

“You hurt Pete!” Patrick accused. “You hurt him, and I love him, so I can’t let that slide!”

“Hurt him?” Gabe repeated. “I’ve never hurt him. Maybe I wasn’t the most loving person on earth, but I would never hurt him!”

“Shut the fuck up!” Patrick shouted. He took Pete by the hand. “We’re leaving, and if I ever see you anywhere near my boyfriend again, I’ll kill you!”

“Sure, dude,” Gabe said casually. Patrick stormed off, dragging Pete behind him. He was grumbling to himself their entire cab ride back to his and Pete’s place, and for a while after they arrived as well.

“You know, you didn’t have to do that,” Pete said.

“Of course I did,” Patrick told him. “He hurt you! He deserved that.”

“I guess so,” Pete agreed reluctantly. “But still. If he’d punched you back, you could’ve gotten hurt. So don’t do that again.”

“Fine,” Patrick said. “But only if you agree to never drag me out to a party ever again.”

“Honestly? I don’t want to go another party ever again either.”

“Glad we can agree.”

“Thanks, though,” Pete said. “For sticking up for me.”

“It was nothing,” Patrick replied. “I’d do it again, too.”

And even though Pete had just told Patrick to never do that again, he smiled.


	6. Chapter 6

Joe walked up to Pete and Patrick at lunch again the next day. He wanted to apologize for the chaos at the party. Even though he hadn’t known Gabe was going to show up, he still felt bad about it. However, the moment Patrick saw him, he shot him a dirty look.

“Piss off, Joe,” he grumbled.

“Hey, I came here to apologize,” Joe said. “I should have made sure Gabe wasn’t coming to the party before I invited you.”

“Yeah, you really should have,” Patrick told him.

“No, it’s okay,” Pete said. “It wasn’t your fault, Joe. And besides, I’ll be fine.”

Patrick and Joe both looked at him with confusion, probably doubting that Pete would be fine (because when is he ever fine). There was also the fact that Pete had reacted so badly to seeing Gabe at the party, but now he seemed weirdly okay about it. Maybe it was just that the situation had changed. Still, it seemed off.

“Are you sure?” Joe asked.

“Yeah. Don’t worry.”

“Okay. See you later, I guess.”

“What’s up with you?” Patrick asked once Joe had left.

“What do you mean?” Pete said defensively.

“Why are you so… okay about this whole Gabe thing all of a sudden?”

“I never said I was okay with it. I just meant it wasn’t Joe’s fault and I can get over it.”

“Still. It just… makes me sad to see you like that. Like how you were at the party. I want you to feel safe, okay?”

“I do! It’s not a problem, okay? Don’t worry about me.”

In truth, Pete really wasn’t okay about the whole Gabe thing. He just didn’t want to be a burden to Patrick. At least, not more than he already was with his other issues. Pete knew he could be a real pain sometimes, but he tried not to be. Still, he was afraid that maybe it wasn’t good enough, and everyone was already worried (or, more likely, annoyed) about all his stupid problems that he just couldn’t keep to himself.

Pete was unusually quiet for most of that day, which made Patrick question even more whether or not he was actually alright. However, he knew he probably wouldn’t get much out of asking Pete what was wrong, so he didn’t even bother.

That night, the two of them ordered pizza and sat on the couch watching TV together. It was stupidly romantic in exactly the way every perfect, fluffy romance novel plays out. For that brief amount of time, the two of them could just sit on the couch together, eating pizza and watching Jeopardy and pretending nothing was wrong. Pete even fell asleep, snuggled up close to Patrick on the couch with his head resting on Patrick’s shoulder. He was cute while he slept (provided he wasn’t having a nightmare), and Patrick would have happily cuddled with him all night. But the idea of sleeping on the couch wasn’t remotely appealing, so Patrick had to wake Pete up so they could both go to bed.

Patrick’s bed felt lonely, and it was something he’d never felt before. He even considered crawling into Pete’s bed and sleeping next to him, but he didn’t want to seem desperate. Still, Patrick felt weird sleeping alone that night, even though that’s what he’d done most of his life. Something seemed to be missing, and he knew in his heart that that something was Pete, but even then he decided to sleep alone.

Pete missed the feeling of being snuggled up next to Patrick pretty much the moment he was in his own bed. His bed felt empty, and in a way he felt empty too. It was keeping him awake. That scared Pete-he was getting attached to Patrick, probably even too attached. He knew it wasn’t healthy, he knew it was a surefire way to create heartbreak for himself in the future. But god, he needed Patrick. He needed that touch, that warm feeling of their hands held together or their bodies pressed up against each other.

Pete slept alone that night. The thought that he was starting to obsess over Patrick scared him too much. It was all too familiar. He would fall in love with this sweet, adorable guy, he would let that guy become his entire world, his entire life, and then the moment that guy hurt him in the slightest Pete would plunge into a special kind of darkness that even he could barely handle. And that would scare him off, leaving Pete alone again, doomed to start the cycle again with a new boyfriend over and over again until eventually that special kind of darkness swallowed him whole and he turned up a few days later, dead by his own hand. This was the way it was for Pete, and even though Pete was afraid to admit it he knew deep down that it was true.

When Patrick awoke the next morning, he found Pete sitting on the couch, tracing the cuts on his arms with his finger. He seemed oddly mesmerized, and it creeped Patrick out.

“Hey, Petey,” Patrick said quietly, slowly approaching Pete and taking a seat next to him on the couch. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Pete replied sarcastically. “Everything’s just great.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“No. Not right now.”

“Can you at least stop playing with your cuts? You might scratch them open.” Patrick didn’t mention how much it scared him, but he figured that was implied.

“I’m sorry,” Pete said quietly. He buried his head in his hands. “I’m sorry I’m an awful, obsessive, self-destructive wreck of a boyfriend.”

“What do you mean?” Patrick asked. “You’re not awful at all. You just have your issue, and you know what? That’s okay. You’ll be okay.”

That word. It hit Pete a lot harder than it probably should have, but he wasn’t surprised. Gabe had always called Pete’s self-harming problem his “little issue,” like it was something minor and stupid and unimportant. Like it was a bad haircut or something like that, something that doesn’t really matter and will eventually go away. But it wasn’t like that at all. Yeah, scars heal, but they don’t just go away. And there are always more to come, every time Pete gets hurt by someone, or when he doesn’t but feels like he should have been.

“No! No I won’t!” Pete shouted. “I’ll love you so much that I don’t have room for anything else, and then when I inevitably scare you away I’ll end up crying myself to sleep and cutting myself up until I just can’t take it anymore. It happens to me every time, it’s not you, it’s not your fault. It’s me. I’m horrible. I’m a monster.”

“Shhh. No, you’re not.” Patrick stayed as calm as he could. He gently rubbed Pete’s back in an effort to get him to calm down as well. “You’re not a monster. I know that.”

“How?”

Patrick thought about that for a minute before he responded.

“Because you’re scared of hurting people,” he said at last. “A monster would want to hurt someone, not be scared to hurt them.”

Pete nodded. “But I still hurt people.”

“You haven’t hurt me.”

“What if I do?”

“I don’t know,” Patrick replied. “I don’t know.”

Patrick didn’t want to be scared of Pete. He really did want to believe that Pete was just a sad, well-meaning person even if he was afraid he’d hurt people. But what if he wasn’t? What if Gabe had had a reason to break up with Pete other than just not wanting to deal with Pete being emotional?

_No_ , Patrick told himself. _Pete isn’t a monster. He’s just a little broken, that’s all._

Patrick looked over at Pete sitting next to him on the couch. He loved that sad little bitch so much, more than he thought he could ever love someone. He leaned over and kissed Pete on the cheek. Pete blushed, an adorable little smile crossing his face for a split second.

“I love you so much, Pete,” Patrick said. “Don’t worry.”

“Thanks, ‘Trick. I love you too.”

Still, Patrick couldn’t shake the suspicion that maybe Pete really wasn’t such a good person. He decided to ask Joe the next day. Joe was the only person he knew of other than Gabe who would know much about Pete, and Patrick really felt like Gabe wouldn’t be a reliable source of information.

Patrick found Joe after class that day, probably walking home. He figured he wouldn’t be interrupting anything, so he went up to Joe and walked next to him.

“Hey!” Joe greeted him cheerfully. “Patrick, right? Pete’s boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” Patrick replied.

“Are you still mad at me about the party?” Joe asked. “I’m sorry about that, you know. We really got off on the wrong foot there. It was an accident, I promise.”

“No, this isn’t about the party,” Patrick assured him. “I just wanted to know something about Pete. Like, is there anything I should know about him?”

“What do you mean? I’m pretty sure he’s depressed, but you probably already knew that.”

“Yeah, I figured that out pretty quickly. I mean like… scary stuff.”

Joe still looked confused.

“Why did Gabe break up with him?” Patrick finally said. “Was it really just because he was tired of dealing with Pete’s feelings, or did Pete do something to him?”

“Are you saying you’re afraid Pete’s a bad person?” Joe asked, his eyes narrowing. “Because he’s not. He’s a great dude, okay? I know he’s got this thing about how he thinks he’s a horrible monster who hurts everyone he touches, but that’s not real. Yeah, he’s more than a little messed up. I get that. But he wouldn’t hurt anyone, alright? And if you hurt him, if you break his heart like Gabe did, I will personally come to your house and smash a guitar over your head.”

“Okay. Good to know. I promise I won’t hurt him, then.” Patrick walked away from Joe after that.

It made Patrick happy knowing he could trust Pete. He should have trusted him from the beginning, really. Pete really was an amazing boyfriend. All Patrick wanted to do in that moment was go home, sit with Pete on the couch, and cuddle until they both were too tired to keep their eyes open.

Pete was excited to see Patrick walk through the door of their apartment. In fact, he wanted the same thing Patrick wanted: a night of cuddles and kisses and maybe some pizza if either of them could be bothered to order it. He hugged Patrick the moment he walked in and practically dragged him to the couch.

“Oh, Pete,” Patrick said sweetly. “Did you have a rough day?”

“A little bit,” Pete told him. “It’s okay, though.”

“Would a kiss make you feel better?”

“Yeah, I think it would.”

And so the two of them kissed, pressed close together on the couch and never wanting it to be over.

They even slept in the same bed that night, because both of them agreed sleeping alone was to depressing. Pete clung to Patrick pretty much all night, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt more cozy than uncomfortable, with Pete’s arms firmly held around Patrick and their faces resting so close together on the pillow, they could see each other even in the dark. Of course, Patrick and Pete both loved it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it’s been like, two whole months since I’ve updated this. Hope you like it though!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of Pete’s poems in this chapter are a bit more graphic/disturbing than the rest of the fic. I’ve put them in bold text so you can skip over them as they’re not integral to the plot, but if you feel comfortable reading them please feel free as they do add something to the story :)

In the weeks that followed, things mostly went on as normal. Patrick and Pete walked around campus together, ate lunch together, did pretty much everything together. They kissed, they hugged, they held hands. They almost fucked once, but Pete stopped them under the logic that he still had too many bad memories about Gabe. Patrick was actually a bit relieved about that, considering he didn’t know what the hell he was doing anyway, and he really wanted to be good enough for Pete.

“Don’t worry,” Pete had told him. “You’re more than good enough.”

“I’m not talking about whether or not I’m good enough in general,” Patrick had explained. “It’s not about me being self conscious or whatever. I’ve just… never done that with a guy before.”

“It’s okay,” Pete assured him. “I’ll help you out.”

“When you’re ready, of course.”

“Yeah. When we’re both ready, I’ll be more than happy to help you.” Pete grinned and winked at him. Patrick laughed.

Everything seemed great for a while. Pete hadn’t felt this good in a long time, since long before he had even started dating Gabe. And Patrick was happier with Pete than he had been with his ex girlfriend.

But of course, since Pete is Pete and his life is a disaster, everything had to go wrong.

It wasn’t really clear how the subject of poetry had come up. Pete and Patrick were sitting next to each other on their couch after classes, talking about their days and other mundane things like they usually did in the evenings. At one point Pete mentioned that he wrote poetry.

“Really?” Patrick asked. “I’d love to read some.”

“I don’t know,” Pete said uncomfortably. “They’re not very good.” He didn’t want Patrick to see his poems. Patrick already knew he was fucked up, and the poems would just make everything worse. Still, he couldn’t help but feel like he was hiding something from Patrick because of that.

“Are you sure?” Patrick asked him. “I feel like you’d write good poetry. You’re a really interesting person. And by that I mean you have a lot of things you could write about, of course.”

“I know what you mean,” Pete replied, hoping Patrick meant that he had a lot of things on his mind and not that he was some kind of sad poet. Which Pete was, but of course he didn’t like to admit to that.

“So are you sure I can’t see any?”

“Alright, I’ll get my notebook,” Pete conceded. “You can read a couple if you really want to.”

Patrick smiled, and Pete got up to get his notebook out of his backpack.

Except it wasn’t in his backpack.

Pete should have immediately suspected that something was up. He hadn’t taken his notebook out during school that day, and he’d had it in his bag when he left that morning. Maybe it was somewhere else in the dorm. Pete looked around on the floor by his bag and near his room, hoping it would turn up.

It wasn’t long before Patrick realized how long it was taking Pete and went to see what was up.

“I can’t find my notebook,” Pete explained to him.

“Damn,” Patrick said, a bit upset that he wouldn’t get to see Pete’s poems. “Did you have it yesterday?”

“Yeah,” Pete told him, worry starting to show in his voice. “I had it in my bag this morning, and I haven’t taken it out all day, but now it’s just gone.”

“Don’t worry,” Patrick reassured him. “It’s probably somewhere around here. You probably just took it out and forgot about it. I’ll help you look.”

“Thanks,” Pete said. “I just hope I didn’t lose it in school. There’s some really personal shit in there.” Patrick then understood why Pete was hesitant to share his poems. He felt a bit bad about pressuring him about it, but he figured there couldn’t be anything more horrific in those poems than what he already knew about Pete.

“You know, you really don’t have to share your poems with me if you don’t want to,” Patrick told Pete.

“No, it’s okay. I trust you. If only we could actually find it, I’d be alright showing you a few poems.” Pete smiled awkwardly at Patrick, still trying to hide his panic at the missing book.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry about it.”

“Alright.”

They kept looking around the dorm for at least another half an hour. Patrick didn’t even know what the book looked like, and so he was pretty much just looking for anything at that point. The two of them found some old crushed-up papers from various classes, a couple spiderwebs, and a potato chip which was god knows how old gathering ants in a corner. But there was no sign of Pete’s book. Eventually they had to call it a day.

The rest of the evening, Pete still tried to act like losing his notebook was no big deal. However, by the time he and Patrick crawled into bed, there were tears in his eyes. The whole situation was just stressing him out so much. Patrick noticed, of course, and immediately tried to comfort him.

“Come on, I’m sure we’ll find it soon,” he said, even though he knew how uncertain he sounded. “You probably just left it in one of your classrooms. One of your professors will probably hand it to you on Monday and it’ll be like nothing ever happened.”

“But what if they read it?” Pete whimpered. “What if someone reads it who already doesn’t like me, and they ruin my life over it? What if someone tries to get me sent to a psych ward over it?”

“I don’t think they’d do that,” Patrick told him. It couldn’t be that bad, could it? “The worst case scenario is that the school has a counselor talk to you. It’ll be fine, trust me.”

“Really?”

“I think so.”

“I hope so.”

Pete feel asleep in Patrick’s arms. It was a restless sleep, and it made sleeping next to him a bit uncomfortable, but Patrick felt he had to stay with Pete. Somehow he felt that him being there would do something to keep Pete at least somewhat calm throughout the whole situation. Still, Patrick awakened numerous times during the night to Pete crying onto his chest. Seeing him like that, so scared and distraught, was frankly disturbing.

The next day was a Saturday, which only made the situation better in that Pete didn’t have to deal with classes along with the issue of his missing notebook. He did have something to type up, but he figured it could wait. In the meantime, Pete spent his time sulking on the couch, drinking coffee, and occasionally checking his phone.

At about 10:30 in the morning, he saw a message on his phone screen. It was from Joe.

_did you lose your poetry notebook?_

Pete smiled. Joe must have found his book! Patrick had been right after all, and they were going to find it soon.

_yeah, do you have it?_

Joe’s response was sort of chilling, if not just confusing.

_no. check twitter._

Intrigued, but mostly just looking for any way possible to find his precious poetry journal, Pete checked Twitter. To his surprise, someone had tweeted about him, which rarely happened. He wasn’t as popular as he liked to believe he was. Of course, because of how the internet works, it wasn’t just a nice message saying he was cool. It was something awful.

Gabe had made the tweet. Obviously it had to be Gabe, because Pete’s luck was just like that. To Pete’s horror, the tweet contained a photo of the cover of his journal, with the caption “found Petey Wentz’s diary. DM me and I’ll send you some of his poems. there’s some psycho shit in here lmfao.”

All Pete could do was cry. His mouth gaped open in shock, hot tears streamed down his cheeks, and ugly sobs echoed from his throat. Patrick rushed in to see what was wrong.

“Someone found my notebook,” Pete explained through tears. He showed Patrick the tweet.

“Oh my god,” Patrick gasped. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Pete sobbed. “I’ll be okay.” But it was obvious that that was a complete lie.

“That’s the same Gabe you dated, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow. He really is awful.”

“I know.”

Pete didn’t want to get up after that. All he wanted to do was lay on the couch next to Patrick and cry for the rest of his life. Gabe had done the very thing Pete was afraid he’d do: he had told the world just how fucked up Pete was. Pete tried to think of all the sorts of poems he’d written in that journal, just to see how bad it truly was. There was typical angsty/edgy/emo stuff, about heartbreak and unrequited love and dark clouds floating over his head. Then there was stuff that was more… Pete-esque. Poems about death and blood, about slicing his arms open and about bleeding on the floor as the people he loved watched in horror. Some of them were even more graphic, which is probably what Gabe meant by the “psycho shit”.

Patrick stayed with Pete for probably another half an hour. He still hadn’t stopped crying, and Patrick figured he had to do something.

“Look, Pete, it’ll be okay. Trust me,” he said. He knew how unconvincing it sounded, but what else could he say?

“You know that’s not true,” Pete sighed.

“Eventually it will be. People will forget about this in a few days, you know that.”

“No they won’t. You don’t know what’s in that book. People don’t forget that kind of stuff.”

Patrick was still trying to tell himself that Pete’s poems couldn’t be that horrific. Either Pete was overestimating his capabilities as a writer or he was just overreacting to the whole situation. Still, Patrick couldn’t help but worry a little bit. Maybe he didn’t want to read Pete’s poems after all.

“Still, you can’t just sit here and cry all day. That’ll just make you feel worse. Do you want to go get frozen yogurt?” Patrick suggested.

“No. What if we see someone who saw my poems there?”

“I’ll go pick it up.”

“It’d just melt on the way back. Plus, it’s like, March. It’s too cold for frozen yogurt.”

“We could go see a movie.”

“I’d just wind up crying over it. And there’s nothing good out anyway.”

“You can’t just sit here and cry all day.”

“Yes I can.”

“Pete, I know this is awful for you, but you should at least try to take your mind off of it. See if there’s a cooking show on or something, and I can make you some hot chocolate.”

“Do we have hot chocolate?” Pete perked up just a little bit upon hearing that.

“I’m pretty sure we do. I’ll go check.”

Patrick left the room, and Pete turned on the TV and started flipping through channels. A few minutes later, Patrick returned with a mug of hot chocolate and a blanket from his room.

“Thank you so much,” Pete smiled. He placed the hot chocolate on the coffee table and wrapped himself up in the blanket. “Did you not want hot chocolate?”

“We only had one packet left. I thought you needed it more than me.”

“Oh my god, you’re the best.”

“Don’t mention it.” Patrick blushed. He sat down next to Pete on the couch. “At least share the blanket, okay?”

“Okay,” Pete agreed. He let Patrick wrap himself up in the blanket with him, and the two of them snuggled up together and watched Gordon Ramsay. Pete actually almost forgot about the whole poetry situation between the noise from the TV and the various ‘I love you’s whispered to each other during commercial breaks.

At least, until later that night.

Patrick was in the kitchen cooking spaghetti, and Pete was sitting on the couch mindlessly browsing the Internet. A notification popped up that someone had sent him a message on twitter, and even though he should have known he’d regret looking at it, he clicked it anyway. It was a name he didn’t recognize, probably someone from one of his classes who’d just followed him during class one day. Somehow, that made the contents of the message more devastating. It simply read “you actually wrote this shit??” and contained a photo of one of the pages from Pete’s journal. The poem read:

_roses are red, and their thorns are sharp._  
i’m holding the one you gave me so tight, just like you held me.  
the thorns are cutting my hands.  
i hope that’s okay.  
i know you don’t care.  
but i didn’t do it to myself.  
you gave me that rose.  
thank you. it’s beautiful. 

The poem wasn’t very good, Pete had to admit. He’d written it after he’d broken up with one of his older boyfriends, before he’d even met Gabe. He decided not to respond to the message and just delete it instead.

Unfortunately, Gabe had sent plenty of his other poems to other people. Those people had in turn posted the poems and even tagged Pete in them for good measure. One of them was posted by someone else from one of Pete’s classes and was captioned “yeah just gonna sit on the opposite side of the lecture hall from @petewentz from now on”. This poem read:

****_today i feel sick and i can’t place what it is._  
maybe I have a headache from hearing myself scream in my sleep.  
maybe i cut myself too deeply and this feeling is from blood loss.  
but i think it was really when you held me close and told me you loved me.  
your love is making me sick but i’ll eat it like candy.  
i’ll let you shoot it into my veins until my blood turns poisonous.  
i’ll let you force it down my throat until i’m coughing up blood into your face.  
i’ll let you cut me open and shove it inside of me until i die.  
it will rot every organ i have and i will die screaming.  
i was already sick and you treated me with toxins.  
thank you, doctor. i love you too. 

Pete felt like throwing up after re-reading that one. He barely remembered writing it in the first place, but he was sure it was about Gabe. It was probably after one of Gabe’s drunk sex incidents, but Pete couldn’t think of a specific one he would have written that poem about. A few of those incidents had ended with Pete sitting naked on the bathroom floor, crying as he tried to hold back vomit (a lovely mental image, really), but Pete had forgotten which specific incident it was. That, or he’d repressed that particular night in his mind. He just hoped that neither Gabe nor the person who had posted that poem had put the pieces together.

However, Pete wouldn’t be surprised if Gabe had figured it out, considering Gabe himself had posted a page after his original tweet with the caption “think this one is about me… what the hell was i doing dating this guy tf”, and the page read:

_i wish i could love you more but it’s hard to love when your heart’s been stolen._  
and not stolen like “paris france stole my heart”  
stolen like “what have you done to me give me my heart back”.  
i used to think it was the first kind back when it was all just kisses and hugs  
but you have taken my heart and ran with it.  
maybe i really am going crazy like you say i am.  
i think tomorrow i’ll cut open my chest and see if my heart is still there. 

Pete remembered that day. The day he’d “cut open his chest”. It wasn’t really like that at all. He’d just etched a heart into his chest with a kitchen knife. Gabe had been appalled, but not in the way you’d expect from someone who saw a literal bleeding heart on the chest of their boyfriend. He had called Pete “extra” and given him a few band-aids. Later Pete had gotten a tattoo of a heart on his chest to cover up the scar. It was pretty small, and just looked like a normal tattoo. Pete kind of liked it, or at least he liked it a lot more than a self-harm scar. But it wasn’t like he could cover all of his scars with tattoos. He didn’t have the money, or the pain tolerance.

Then Pete saw another tweet. This one was from Gabe’s new boyfriend William. Pete wondered which of his poems Gabe had shown William. Well, less “wondered” and more “dreaded”. Still, like an idiot, he read the tweet. It was simply captioned “okay @petewentz you better stay the fuck away from my man you weirdo”, and the poem was one of Pete’s personal… favourites:

****_one day all of this will be over._  
i’ll be dead and buried with a headstone that says “here lies a boy no one loved”  
and if i’m lucky you’ll be next to me with a headstone that says “here lies the reason for that”.  
and one day some archaeologist or delinquent kid will hear about me  
and they’ll go out and dig up the fabled unlovable boy  
i’ll be there waiting for them and i’ll tell them my story.  
they’ll see my heart ripped into little pieces and scattered through the dirt  
they’ll see my guts twisted and tangled in impossible ways  
they’ll find my lungs full of blood and imagine me struggling to breathe  
and they’ll look at my arms and find among the cuts and bruises  
etched into my arm the words “this is how it feels to be in love with him”. 

It was a gruesome image, and Pete couldn’t help but be proud of how he’d sculpted it himself. But the replies to the tweet made him wish he was that boy, dead and buried in a grave proclaiming that no one loved him. There were countless people calling him a creep and a psycho, there were at least two people saying that people like him belonged in a mental asylum, and there was, of course, the Internet classic of several people saying that he should kill himself. It actually seemed like an appealing prospect at that point.

Then Pete thought of Patrick, who was in the kitchen finishing up the spaghetti. No matter how much he wanted to right then, Pete couldn’t leave him behind. So instead he just tiptoed to the bathroom, gave himself a few cuts, put on his hoodie, and went to the kitchen for dinner as if everything was fine.

Patrick was just putting the sauce on the spaghetti when Pete walked in.

“Smells good,” Pete commented, sounding a bit too cheerful.

“Thanks,” Patrick replied, pleasantly surprised.

As they sat down to dinner, Patrick asked Pete how he was doing. Pete replied that he was okay, and Patrick said he was glad Pete was feeling better. Patrick could feel that something was wrong all throughout dinner, and as they crawled into bed that night, but he didn’t want to upset Pete by bringing it up. So he just hugged Pete tightly, told him how much he loved him, and hoped it was enough.


	8. Chapter 8

Sunday was a little bit better. Pete got some homework done, and he didn’t seem nearly as upset as he had the previous day. Patrick had tried to tell him not to go on Twitter in hopes to prevent Pete from seeing the responses to his poems, and Pete was willing to comply with that request. He really wasn’t in the mood to see a bunch of people treating him like some kind of lunatic. Still, he knew he wasn’t going to be able to avoid it come Monday, when he’d have to go back to school and face the people who had ridiculed him.

Pete was, of course, not excited by this, and really would have preferred lying in bed all day avoiding his problems. But Patrick pulled him out of bed anyway. Even though he would have been happy to lie there with Pete all day, and he definitely didn’t want to force Pete to confront his tormentors, Pete had to go to class.

“Just tell my professors I have the stomach flu or something,” Pete moaned as he prepared his books for class.

“If they found out I was lying about that for you we could get arrested or something,” Patrick told him.

“We could not get _arrested_.”

“We could fail all our classes. Or get expelled.”

“God, you’re such a nerd!” Pete said jokingly. He gently gave Patrick a kiss.

“Maybe so,” Patrick laughed. The two of them walked to their first class with smiles on their faces. However, that burst of happiness would not last.

As soon as they walked into the lecture hall, the crowd seemed to disperse as if the two of had the plague. People whispered and pointed, and Patrick squeezed Pete’s hand tightly. He wanted to scream at them, but he didn’t want to cause a scene or draw even more attention to Pete.

They sat down in the back corner of the room, and everyone else tried their best to leave at least a two meter radius around them. It was not only cruel, it was also just plain immature. Pete rested his head on Patrick’s shoulder.

“I’m so sorry,” Patrick whispered.

“It’s okay,” Pete said half to himself. “Just like you said. Everything’s gonna be fine.”

“Eventually,” Patrick corrected. “Life’s gonna suck a whole lot for a little while, but everything will be alright in the end, okay?”

“Yeah. I know.”

And deep down, Pete did know that. He knew that eventually all of this would blow over and everything would go back to the way it was. But in that moment, it really didn’t feel that way. Pete had become an outcast practically overnight. Sure, he wasn’t exactly Mr. Popular before, but at least everyone ignored him instead of insulting him behind his back. Sometimes not even behind his back.

Pete could barely focus on the lecture. He was lost in his own head, wondering just how bad this situation could possibly get. How horrifying were his poems, really? Even though they seemed tame to him since he was the one who wrote them (and lived through the shit that inspired them), he could imagine how someone else could feel after reading them. The poems he’d seen posted on Twitter the previous day probably weren’t even the worst of the bunch. There was no telling what Gabe could have shared, or how people would react after seeing it. Pete knew it couldn’t be good.

Patrick gently rested his hand on Pete’s shoulder, trying to calm him down as much as he possibly could. Maybe he could copy Andy’s notes later, considering he hadn’t been able to take many during that lecture. He didn’t really care though. In that moment, Pete was more important.

They walked out of the lecture hall holding hands as everyone watched on with disgust. Patrick held Pete as close as he could. He felt so bad about everything that had happened. He wished he could stay with Pete all day to protect him from everyone’s hatred, but he just couldn’t. They didn’t have any more classes together that day, and Patrick wanted to cry as he kissed Pete goodbye and walked to his next class. He just couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going to happen to Pete because of Gabe and those stupid poems.

Patrick tried to stay calm as he walked to class. He must have checked his phone a hundred times to make sure it was on so he’d know if Pete tried to call him. He just had to keep it together, because if both him and Pete were freaking out then the situation would just be made a million times worse. Still, the whole thing was stressing him out a whole lot and he didn’t know much more he was going to be able to handle.

He was so lost in his own head that he didn’t hear the quick footsteps running up behind him.

A hand slapped him on the shoulder and pulled him out of his train of thought. Patrick turned around to see Gabe staring back at him. He tried to pull himself away and keep walking, but Gabe’s grip on his shoulder was too strong.

“Let me go,” Patrick said halfheartedly. “I’m having a bad day already.”

“And it’s Pete’s fault, isn’t it?” Gabe responded. It caught Patrick off guard.

“No it’s not! If anything, it’s your fault for sending people his poems. Do you know what it’s doing to him?”

“Let me guess-he’s cutting himself again?”

Patrick hesitated. _Was he?_ He hoped not.

“No. But that doesn’t mean he’s okay! He was afraid to go to school this morning because he thought people were going to make fun of him.”

“Of course,” Gabe mumbled to himself.

“So what do you want from me?”

“Look, Patrick, I just wanted to warn you. You’ve seen his poems, right?”

“No. You have his book.”

“Oh, right. Here.” Gabe quickly grabbed his bag and pulled out the notebook. Patrick should have just taken it and ran, but he didn’t.

“Anyway,” Gabe continued. “Take it from me. You really shouldn’t be dating someone like him. He’s… not normal.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No! I’m serious, man! I just want to protect you.”

“Why would you want to protect me?”

“Because I don’t want Pete to do to you what he did to me.”

“And what is that, exactly?” Patrick glared at Gabe. He wasn’t buying anything Gabe was saying.

“He’s going to ruin your life, Patrick. I know it sounds dumb to say that he’s ‘not normal’ or whatever, but I mean it. There’s something very, very wrong with him. It starts off innocent enough. He gets upset and he hurts himself and you think ‘oh, he’s just got some mental issues, I can deal with this’, but that’s not it. Before you know it you’re walking on eggshells around him. You say or do anything that he thinks is wrong and he cuts himself or threatens to kill himself. And if you think he’s just saying it out of anger or to get you to take him seriously, you’re wrong. You don’t realize how wrong you are until you find him on the bathroom floor with his wrists cut up and bloody, but that’s enough to give you a wake-up call. If you’re smart, you get out right then, but if you’re like me and you’re scared that he’ll try again if you leave, you keep trying. You keep trying, and you don’t know if you’re trying to fix him or just trying to keep him happy but nothing works. He keeps on cutting and cutting and cutting and eventually you can’t even look at him because all you see is blood. And then finally you have to give up. Of course he’ll cry and threaten to off himself, but that’s a risk you have to take. Because you just can’t live with something like that.”

Patrick couldn’t respond. He was horrified. The image of Pete standing in the bathroom doorway with his arms bloodied and a razor blade in his hand kept on flashing in his mind. Patrick wanted to believe that it was just because Pete’s brain was broken, that he couldn’t control what he did and he didn’t mean to hurt anyone and that he truly was trying to stop. But the way Gabe told it, Pete really was a monster. The way he told the story, Pete had manipulated him into giving him endless praise, cutting himself at every infraction only to further break Gabe down. It sounded awful, but then Patrick remembered what Joe had said. That Pete was a good guy, and it was Gabe who had broken Pete down into almost nothing.

Patrick wanted so badly to believe Joe. He told himself that Gabe was the real monster in this situation, and this little speech was just another event in his string of manipulative actions. He knew Pete wasn’t really a bad person, he just knew.

“If you’re so innocent in this situation,” Patrick said shakily, “then why did you send people his poems?”

“Because they need to see them,” Gabe replied. “They need to know what a fucking psycho he is so they don’t make the same mistake I did.”

Patrick turned around. He was done listening to Gabe.

“Whatever. It was just shitty, okay? I don’t care what kind of vigilante justice you think you’re doing,” Patrick said over his shoulder. “And don’t call him a psycho. You don’t even know what that means.”

“Clearly you don’t either, considering you’re still with him!” Gabe shouted after Patrick. But Patrick didn’t even turn around. He didn’t care what Gabe had to say.

Patrick didn’t have a very good day after that. He was barely able to concentrate in most of his classes, his mind was so preoccupied with how Pete was doing and if everything was going to be okay. It was nerve racking, and not being able to shake the image of Pete after he had cut himself didn’t help.

Of course, Pete’s day was much worse than this.

After he had been bombarded with shouts of “psycho” and “freak” all the way to his next class, he figured it would be easier to just hide out in a bathroom all day so no one could find him. He rushed out of the lecture hall five minutes early and hurried to the nearest bathroom. Locking the door behind him and climbing up onto the toilet so he wouldn’t have to sit on the gross floor while he cried to himself, he began to wonder how he’d wound up like this. Of course, Pete was no stranger to crying in bathroom stalls. It had practically been his thing in high school, being a depressed queer kid and therefore an easy target for bullies. But it was supposed to be different now. Pete stayed under the radar and didn’t get himself into trouble. Except this time, he’d done everything right. Gabe had gotten him into trouble. It was all Gabe’s fault. Stupid fucking Gabe.

Gabe may not have started all of Pete’s problems, but he sure did create a lot of new ones. He was the one who had caused Pete to relapse: it had been three years since he’d hurt himself when he’d had his first really bad fight with Gabe. He was the first person Pete had told about his meds, and he was the first person who made Pete feel ashamed for it. He had dragged Pete to parties, and even though Pete liked parties some of Gabe’s parties were too rough even for him. Gabe had done things to him that made Pete want to vomit just from thinking about it, and Pete had let him. He was thinking about those things then, because Pete tended to let his mind wander to dark places. Those things still made him feel sick.

And the worst part was, all of it felt like his fault. He’d been the one to cut himself, he’d told Gabe about his meds, he let Gabe do those awful, sickening things to him. Hell, he had brought his poetry book to class in the first place and he’d been careless enough to lose it.

Everything was his fault, and it hurt like hell.

Pete dug through his bag. He knew he had something sharp buried in it, even if it was just a pencil or something. Soon enough he found a pencil sharpener, which he had never used. He desperately tried to remove the blade, he just _needed_ it so badly, he needed to hurt himself, he just had to. Eventually a piece of the blade snapped off and fell to the floor. The sharpener was obviously cheaply made, and the metal was so thin he’d been able to break it with his bare hands. But that was okay. Pete grabbed the piece of metal off the floor and began his work, slicing away at his skin and silently sobbing to himself all the while. It was pathetic.

By the time Pete met up with Patrick at the end of the day, he was utterly broken. He smelled like a public restroom, his arms stung so much he could barely focus on anything else, and he didn’t even feel like talking. As soon as they got back up to their apartment, Pete dumped his stuff in a corner and fell into the bed. Patrick tried to get him to move, to eat something or finish his homework or at least change out of his clothes, but Pete just wasn’t feeling it. Eventually, Patrick just climbed into bed next to him. He gently rubbed Pete’s back, knowing full well that Pete was still awake.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Pete replied, his voice hoarse and shaky. “It’s mine.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie I actually cried a little while writing this one so prepre yourself I guess

Pete woke up the next morning actually feeling physically ill. It was the worst he had felt in ages, and he was one hundred percent sure it had been caused by all the stress of the past few days. He felt like throwing up, his head hurt, he was sweaty (although that may have just been from wearing all of his clothes to bed). When Patrick woke up and saw him curled up in a ball next to him, neither of them was really sure what to do.

“Oh, Pete,” Patrick said sympathetically. “This is really hard, isn’t it?”

Pete hardly managed to moan out a response. His voice even sounded sickly, it was rough and gravelly and just… off. Patrick reached over and gently patted him on the back, but Pete pushed him away. He was afraid that the slightest touch would make him vomit. Another sickly groan escaped his mouth, and his eyes welled up with tears.

“Wow, you’re really sick, huh,” Patrick observed. “I guess all this shit is really messing you up.”

Pete nodded slowly in reply.

“Do you need me to get you something? Water? Clean clothes?” He didn’t want to make Pete get up in the state he was in.

“No,” Pete mumbled.

“Are you sure? You really don’t sound good.”

“I’m fine.”

“Alright. I’m gonna get ready for class, then.” Patrick got out of bed and began getting dressed for school, but then he heard Pete say something.

“Don’t leave,” Pete begged in a weak, desperate voice. He had picked his head up just enough to look across the room at a now shirtless Patrick.

“I’m sorry, Pete, but I have to go to class. I’ll be back as soon as possible,” Patrick assured him.

“No!” Pete whined. “You can’t leave me.”

“I’ll be back this afternoon, you don’t have to worry.”

“You can’t leave me alone,” Pete repeated.

“Why not?” Patrick was getting a bit irritated by now, but he tried not to let it show.

“Because-” Pete sniffled, tears streaming down his face, “-I’m afraid I’m gonna do something while you’re gone.” He sounded desperate, and genuinely scared, and it didn’t take Patrick long to figure out what he was referring to. It didn’t come across as a threat. Still, Patrick couldn’t help but remember what Gabe had told him.

_It’s bullshit,_ he told himself. _Pete’s really struggling, of course he’d be afraid he might hurt himself. I’m scared too, really._

“Look, I get how you’d be scared, but I need to go to class. I’ll have my phone on all day, so you can just text me if you need to talk, alright?”

“But that’s not the same,” Pete protested. “I’m scared, Patrick. Please don’t leave me.” His voice was getting weaker as he kept on talking.

“You’ll be okay,” Patrick promised him. “You were fine without me at school yesterday.”

“Fine?” Pete sounded angry, even though he couldn’t scream. “You really think I was fine? Well I wasn’t!” Without warning, Pete pulled off his shirt, revealing the cuts from the previous day. Patrick was shocked. Even though he’d seen Pete’s cuts before, this was different. There were so many, and the fact that he hadn’t been there to stop them from happening made it ten times more awful. Worst of all, it just served to prove what Gabe had said. _He keeps on cutting, and cutting, and cutting._ It played over and over again, and Patrick kept on convincing himself that Pete was doing it just because of the mocking or because of what Gabe had done or just because of the horrors in his mind, and not to guilt Patrick into staying by his side.

“Oh my god,” Patrick said in what was barely more than a whisper. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea. Oh my god, you poor thing, I’m so sorry.”

Patrick jumped back into bed and enveloped Pete in a hug. Even though Pete was not a huge fan of being called a “poor thing”, he was enjoying the affection.

“It’s okay,” he sniffled. “I’m the one who should be sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry,” Patrick told him. “This isn’t your fault. I know you’re trying to get better.”

“So will you stay?”

“No, Pete. I can’t stay. Just be strong for me, alright? And text me if you’re feeling bad. You can get through this, I know it.”

Patrick got back up and pulled on a shirt. Pete watched him silently until he left the room.

Even though Patrick felt bad about leaving Pete behind, he knew he didn’t really have much of a choice. He couldn’t afford to miss any school, and as much as Pete had begged him to stay he doubted there was anything he could really do for Pete if he had. The reality was, he could hug and kiss Pete all he wanted, but it wouldn’t really help. It wouldn’t make things better.

People treated Patrick normally when he was without Pete. Sure, they’d never payed him much mind before anyway, but at least ignoring him was better than treating him like some kind of virus. His first few classes went by without any problems, and he was beginning to actually think everything was going to be okay. Then, as he was heading to lunch, he received a message from Pete.

It simply said “i’m sorry”, and there was an image attached. Patrick was afraid to open the message, fearing the gruesome sight that might have awaited him. Eventually, though, he had to unlock his phone so he could text Pete back. He braced himself for the horrors that awaited, and as soon as he opened the message app, his worst fears came true. The photo showed Pete’s left arm, bloodied and mutilated in the same way it had been many times before. Patrick was understandably sickened by the image, and pretty much lost his appetite after looking at it. He was almost angry at Pete. Did he really have to send Patrick a picture of what he’d done? Still, Patrick had to step in and be the caring boyfriend, so he quickly deleted the picture from the conversation before texting Pete back.

_Oh no. Why didn’t you text me?_

_didn’t think_

Patrick sighed. Did Pete ever think?

_Did you clean it off at least?_

_a little_

_Please text me if you feel like hurting yourself again, okay? I love you. I hate seeing you do this to yourself._

_love you too. so fucking sorry_

_If you do it again, don’t send me a picture, okay? Makes me sad :(_

_boo fucking hoo  
you’re not the one slicing up your own arm because your boyfriend didn’t care enough to stay with you_

Patrick was surprised. He thought he’d explained the whole situation well enough, and that Pete was okay with it, but apparently that wasn’t the case.

_I’m so sorry I couldn’t stay. I told you, I had to go to class! I’ll be home asap afterwards though <3_

_not soon enough :(_

Patrick felt himself tear up. He knew it wasn’t going to be soon enough. It was already too late, Pete had already hurt himself.

_I’m sorry, Pete, but I can’t come home any sooner._

_what if i told you i might kill myself if you were away for too long_

The response shook Patrick to the core. If the threat of losing Pete wasn’t enough to scare him, the message also reflected exactly what Gabe had told him about Pete’s threats. He still hoped to whatever god there was that Gabe had been lying, but that was looking less and less likely as things escalated.

_I don’t want to lose you. Please just stay strong, okay? I love you so much. It’s only a couple hours longer, you can do this._

_how do you know that_

_I believe in you! You’re strong, you’ll make it!_

_i might not though :(  
please come home i’m scared_

_I’m scared too, Pete. But I know you can do this._

_you don’t know that_

And Patrick realized that Pete was right. He didn’t know that. At that point, he had to take Gabe’s words at face value, because if Gabe really was telling the truth then Pete might actually be planning on killing himself and Patrick really didn’t want to risk that. He figured missing a few classes was worth his boyfriend’s life, and he could just ask a classmate for notes the next day. In the meantime, he rushed out of the cafeteria and got home as quick as he could.

When Pete heard the key click in the lock, he smiled. He wiped tears from his eyes and carefully climbed out of bed to greet Patrick. Of course Patrick cared about him. Pete embraced him as soon as he stepped through the door.

“Oh my god, Pete, you’re alright!” Patrick exclaimed with relief. Then, noticing Pete’s arms, he corrected himself. “At least, you’re not dead.”

“Of course not,” Pete replied. “I stayed strong, just like you said.”

Patrick was so happy to see Pete that he didn’t bring up the fact that he’d come home hours early.

Pete was still wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, which he evidently hadn’t changed out of all day. He almost would have looked hot, if Patrick’s eyes weren’t constantly being drawn to the awful cuts on his arms.

Of course, Pete didn’t bring up the cuts. He insisted that they sit on the couch and watch TV, and since Patrick just wanted to take his mind off their text conversation from earlier, he was happy to oblige. The two of them wrapped up in a blanket, which Patrick also enjoyed because covered up Pete’s arms. Pete insisted on staying in his underwear for the rest of the day, and since Patrick didn’t have the heart to make him change or at least put a shirt on, he was forced to stare at those cuts all through dinner. Eventually, it became too much for him.

“Look, Pete, we need to talk,” he said at last, looking into Pete’s eyes. “This is getting out of control.”

“What do you mean?” Pete asked. He couldn’t imagine that the poetry situation had somehow gotten worse.

“I mean…” Patrick thought about how to put it in the nicest terms possible. “I talked to Gabe yesterday. He gave me your book back, but he also told me some… things.”

“He’s lying!” Pete exclaimed angrily. “Don’t tell me you actually believed his bullshit?”

“That’s the thing, Pete. I don’t want to believe it, but it’s starting to look like it might be true. He told me about back when you two were dating. About how you’d threaten to hurt or kill yourself if he didn’t do what you wanted. And sometimes you actually did those things. You hurt yourself, and even tried to kill yourself.”

“It’s not true!” Pete shouted. “He’s lying to you, don’t you see? He hates me, Patrick, he’s trying to ruin me.”

“Look, Pete, just calm down, okay? That’s what I wanted to think, that’s what I believed at first, because I trusted you.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Pete yelled. Patrick ignored his shouts and continued.

“I trusted you, because I wanted to think that you were the good person here. That it was Gabe who manipulated you, and you were the victim the whole time and that you just hurt yourself because there’s something wrong with your brain and that’s all. But then today happened, and I just don’t know anymore.”

“What do you mean?” Pete asked. He had calmed down a little bit, but he still sounded angry. “What happened today?”

“Don’t you remember?” Patrick practically snapped at him. Now he was beginning to lose his temper. “You threatened to hurt yourself if I didn’t skip class to stay with you, you sent me pictures of you cutting yourself, you threatened to kill yourself if I didn’t come home, and you know what? I came home for you. I came home because I love you, and I didn’t want to lose you. And I opened the door to see you standing there waiting for me, showing off your cuts to me clear as day. Like you were screaming at me that it was my fault, that I had done that to you. I’m trying, Pete. I’m trying so hard to help you. But I can’t do that if you keep threatening to do stupid shit every time I’m away from you.”

And with that, Pete realized something that sent tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Oh my god,” he whispered. “Oh my god, I’m a monster. I’m a fucking monster.”

“No, wait!” Patrick yelled. “That’s not what I meant at all! I was just saying-“

“No, it doesn’t matter. I’m a monster. I threatened to kill myself if you didn’t skip class for me. I hurt myself when you left me alone and sent you pictures of it. Oh my god, what the fuck, I sent you pictures of it! I’m so sorry, Patrick, I’m so fucking sorry. I’m sick. I’m a sick person, just like they all said. I belong in a fucking mental institution because I’m a sick fucking bastard who threatens people and manipulates people and… emotionally tortures his boyfriend. I’m a fucking monster, I’m so sorry.”

“Pete, stop it! You aren’t a monster, I know that. You should know that. I love you so much, please just stop this, alright?”

“No. Gabe was right, Patrick. I’m sorry. I-I think I’m gonna stay at Joe’s tonight. It’s not safe for you to be around someone like me.”

“But what about Joe?”

“Joe’s used to me by now. And I love you too much to stay here and hurt you like this.” Pete stood up from the dinner table and ran to the bedroom. He emerged a minute or so later wearing a shirt and jeans, and holding his phone. Before Patrick could protest, Pete had began putting on his shoes.

“You don’t have to do this,” Patrick told him.

“Yes I do,” Pete replied. “I’m doing this to protect you. I love you so much, alright? I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”

“Are you coming back?”

“I don’t know,” Pete sighed. He stood up and rushed out the door, slamming it behind him. Patrick never even had the chance to say goodbye.

That night, Patrick couldn’t sleep. He cried and cried, he missed Pete lying next to him so much. He needed Pete back, he really did love that stupid emotional wreck. Even though there was a part of him saying that it was a bad idea, he grabbed his phone and texted Pete.

_I miss you so much. Please come back. I love you._

Patrick must have stayed awake for an hour after that, but there was no response. Eventually he fell into a restless sleep, disturbed by the empty space next to him.


	10. Chapter 10

Surprisingly enough, Pete actually made it to Joe’s apartment that night. It didn’t matter how many times he’d wanted to lie down in the street and wait for a car to roll over him, or find a bench to sit down on and just sit there and wait until the cold got to him. He had left his meds at his and Patrick’s place, which was probably going to result in hell within twenty-four hours, but he really didn’t have the strength to worry about it, much less go back for them. Pete knew it would be a bad idea to go back to that apartment, more so for Patrick than for himself. The things he’d done were just too awful, and he couldn’t risk hurting Patrick again.

It was already dark outside when Pete knocked on Joe’s door. He half expected Joe not to answer, and jumped a little when the door opened. Joe was completely awake, of course. He was wearing a t-shirt and boxer shorts, and his hair was slightly messed up.

“Pete?” he asked, clearly surprised to see him. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t stay with Patrick tonight,” Pete mumbled.

“Oh, shit,” Joe said. “Please don’t tell me he did something to you. I can’t handle that, I can’t handle another Gabe.”

“No, it’s not like that,” Pete explained, his voice low and his face sullen. “I hurt him. I manipulated him, I threatened to kill myself if he didn’t come see me and I sent him pictures of me cutting myself! God, I’m fucked up. I can’t believe I did something like that.”

Joe was surprised too, but he tried not to let it show.

“It’s okay, Pete. I’m sure it’s fine. You can sleep here tonight, I’m sure it’ll all be better in the morning.”

“No it won’t,” Pete muttered, shaking his head.

“Come on,” Joe said encouragingly. He escorted Pete into his apartment and shut the door behind him.

“The couch is open. I can give you a blanket and like, a hoodie or something. You’re gonna freeze your ass off, but I guess it could be worse.”

“That’s fine with me,” Pete told him. “As long as I’m away from Patrick, it’s fine.”

Joe just shook his head and began searching for a spare blanket or something like that to give to Pete. As much as he cared about him, he had to admit that sometimes Pete could get to be a bit too much. It was impossible to deny that there was something wrong with him, and while Joe tried to convince himself that that thing wasn’t that bad, there were a lot of things that made him think twice. When he’d seen some of Pete’s poems, for example, it had freaked him the fuck out. And now here Pete was, sleeping over in his apartment because he was afraid of harming Patrick. Even though Joe wanted to believe that Pete would never hurt anyone, maybe he was wrong.

“Look, man, you know I’m always here for you,” Joe said, tossing Pete a fleece blanket he’d found in his closet. “But I really think you need to… I don’t know… try and figure this shit out for yourself sometimes.”

“I tried that,” Pete scoffed. “That’s what I tried while I was with Gabe, and you know how that turned out.”

“Yeah, well… Patrick isn’t Gabe. If you’re scared of hurting him, maybe you should try and talk to him about that instead of coming to me. He’s your boyfriend, after all. And you know I probably have even less experience with this kind of shit than you do.”

“I know,” Pete sighed. “I’m just scared.”

“Of what?”

“Everything! I don’t want to hurt him, but at the same time I’m still afraid he could hurt me like Gabe did, I’m scared that Gabe is still after me which he probably is considering the whole poem thing, and I’m scared that if I tell Patrick everything he’ll get scared and break up with me. And honestly, I wouldn’t blame him. I know I’m fucked up. I’m trying so hard, but… I just can’t do anything right.”

“I’m sorry. I wish I could help you out, but there’s really nothing I can do. Like I said, he’s your boyfriend! You should really talk to him about this.”

“I tried,” Pete said. “Or, well, he tried talking to me. And I fucking lost it. I ran out the door so fast I barely realized what I was doing until I was at your door. I can’t do it, Joe. I just can’t.”

“Look, you can stay at my place for a little while. Collect your thoughts, figure out what to say, whatever you need. But then you’ve gotta talk to him. You’re smart, Pete. You’ll figure something out.”

“But what if he won’t listen? What if he’s scared of me? What if I say something stupid and I can never take it back and he winds up hating me and I end up all alone again?”

“That won’t happen. He’s not like Gabe. I know you know that. You just have to try, okay? It’ll all work out.”

“I hope so,” Pete mumbled.

“Alright, I’m gonna go to sleep now,” Joe said. “I’m tired.”

“Already?” Pete asked.

“You’re a tiring guy, Pete,” Joe laughed. “And I have to go somewhere before class tomorrow, so I’ll have to wake up early.”

“Where are you going?”

“The only decent coffee shop on campus. It’s kind of a ways away from my place, and I don’t have a car, so I have to walk there.”

“You’re telling me you get up at some ungodly hour of the morning every day so you can walk a few miles just to get a coffee?”

“Hey, it’s good exercise! And also, it’s like, the best coffee you’ll ever have. You can come with me if you want.”

“Alright, fine. Not like I’m ever gonna be able to sleep in later than five anyway.”

“Cool. Trust me, it’s totally worth it.”

“Alright, man.”

Joe flipped off the lights and presumably went to sleep, leaving Pete alone and wide awake in the dark. It really was freezing, and no matter how much he wrapped the blanket around himself, he couldn’t get comfortable. He took off his jeans, but kept the shirt on just because of how cold it was. Pete hadn’t felt like this in ages; the last time was probably right after he and Gabe had broken up. And even though he and Patrick were technically still together, it hurt all the same. God, Pete missed him so much. But he didn’t dare pick up that phone. He couldn’t risk hurting Patrick again.

Eventually Pete fell into a restless sleep. He probably got close to falling off the couch during the night, considering how much he tossed and turned. In fact, he probably had some horrible nightmare, but he couldn’t remember what he’d dreamed about by the time he woke up. What he did remember was that he had left all of his school stuff back at his apartment. Still, he couldn’t go back. Not for his books, not for his meds, not for anything. It wouldn’t be worth the risk of hurting Patrick.

Joe woke up a while after Pete did. Pete was already up and moving around by then, and he’d put his clothes from the previous day back on. What exactly he was doing was unclear to Joe, but it didn’t really matter. Just Pete doing his weird-ass thing, as usual.

“Hey, man,” Joe said groggily. “You’re up.”

“Yeah,” Pete replied.

“Are you… ready to go?”

“Ready when you are.”

Joe nodded, then flipped on the lights and slowly got out of bed. Pete waited on the couch as Joe got ready to leave, feeling a bit self-conscious about his unkempt hair and the fact that he hadn’t showered in a while. Still, it felt weird to ask to use Joe’s shower, so he just dealt with it. As soon as Joe was ready, Pete grabbed his phone and the two of them began their trek to the coffee shop.

It was cold outside, and Pete regretted not grabbing a jacket on his way out the previous night. He didn’t feel like making any kind of conversation with Joe, figuring it was just because he hadn’t really woken up yet. Joe was fine with this, and simply walked silently alongside Pete.

The coffee shop was pretty great. It was the kind of place that serves coffee in an actual mug, and when you order a latte they draw a leaf or a rose or something in the foam. Pete actually liked the vibe of the place, especially considering it was early morning and there weren’t very many people there. Joe offered to pay, which Pete was grateful for considering his wallet was still back at his apartment.

The two of them sat down at a table, Joe with a latte and Pete with some kind of mocha-espresso-sugar-whipped-cream-monstrosity. He figured he needed the sugar rush if he was going to make through at least some of the day. It was at this point that Pete decided to look at his phone.

Patrick’s message was displayed on the screen, as if taunt Pete with the sheer awfulness of what he’d done.

_I miss you so much. Please come back. I love you._

Pete fought every urge he had telling him to respond to Patrick with a desperate, soppy, apology-filled attempt to make up for all the pain he’d already caused Patrick. Anything he said would just make everything worse. He wanted to say something, anything to console Patrick. But he knew it would be useless. Nothing he could ever say would make up for what he’d done.

“Are you crying?” Joe interjected, briefly snapping Pete away from the screen. He couldn’t say anything. Instead, he passed his phone to Joe.

Joe read out the message from Patrick. He really did feel bad for the guy. After all, it was Joe who had gotten Patrick into this whole mess by trying to find Pete a suitable boyfriend.

“Pete, you have to say something.”

“I can’t. I’d just make it worse.” Pete wiped tears from his eyes, accidentally dunking his sleeve in the sugar-filled drink in front of him. But he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“You have to. Face it, you’re not the only one hurting here. And whatever you come up with would probably be better than nothing.”

“You’re right, I just-I can’t do it. I ruin everything, I can’t do anything right, all I do is hurt people and I don’t know how to fix anything. I’m so fucking awful, I’m sorry.”

“Look, give me your phone. I’ll type something out for you, and all you have to do is send it. Trust me, I know how to talk to guys having relationship problems. I’ve been dealing with you since high school.”

Pete would have laughed at that, but he was too busy crying. He unlocked his phone and handed it to Joe.

Joe, ignoring the urge to scroll back through the conversation to see just how horrible it was (because let’s face it who wouldn’t think about doing that), quickly typed out a message to Patrick.

He handed the phone back to Pete, who apparently deemed it harmless enough and sent it to Patrick. Instead of waiting for a response, he shoved his phone back in his pocket and continued drinking his coffee.

Meanwhile, Patrick was in the middle of getting ready for class when he heard his phone buzz. He immediately rushed to check it, hoping it was a text from Pete. It was.

_i love you too. so fucking sorry._

While it was short and basically just an echo of what he’d texted Pete, Patrick really hadn’t expected much more. The simple fact that Pete had texted him that he loved him was enough to nearly send Patrick to tears. He wanted to spill his whole soul into a text message, begging Pete to come back and forgiving him for what he’d done. And the truth was, Patrick could forgive Pete for what he’d done. Pete had been blinded by emotional pain, and Patrick loved him too much to let the whole thing get in the way of the two of them being together. Still, he had to tell Pete all of that in person.

When Patrick walked out the door on his way to class that day, he only had two things on his mind: how much he loved Pete, and how the hell he was going to convince him that he was still worthy of that love.


	11. Chapter 11

As soon as Pete arrived at his first class, he started feeling shitty. Whether it was the high amount of sugar he’d just consumed, the fact that he hadn’t taken his meds, or the fact that he was going to have to talk to Patrick soon was unclear. In fact, it was probably a particularly volatile combination of the three. There he was, sitting in the back of the classroom, hoping his own boyfriend would choose not to sit next to him, and thinking of the many ways he could off himself if everything went to hell. Just as he was beginning to wonder how feasible it would be to chew his own wrists open, he heard someone sit down next to him.

Patrick stared at Pete, waiting for him to say something. The boy was silent, staring forward across the lecture hall as if trying to wish Patrick away. Slowly and carefully, Patrick rested a hand on Pete’s shoulder. Pete reached up and wiped a tear from his eye.

“It’s okay,” Patrick told him. “I know why you did it. You were overwhelmed, you were upset, you didn’t know what to do. I know you’re sorry. I forgive you. I love you.”

“No,” Pete replied meekly. “I did it because I’m a terrible person.”

“You’re not terrible! You’re amazing, Pete. I know you are. You’re sweet and caring and loving and-and you’re really cuddly too. And I miss cuddling with you, so please come back. I love you.”

“You shouldn’t. I don’t deserve love. I deserve to fucking die after what I did to you. And Gabe.”

“No you don’t. You need to stop talking like that. It’s just making you feel worse.” Patrick decided to ignore the comment about Gabe.

“Fuck. Poor Gabe. You thought those pictures were bad, you don’t want to know what I did to him.”

“He’s a bad person, Pete. I’m sure whatever you did was justified. Look what he did with your poetry!”

“That’s nothing!” Pete turned to Patrick, his face red and covered with tears. “Oh my god, I was so awful to him. One time, we went to a party. And it was all fine until we were talking with this other guy. I don’t remember his name. It’s not important anyway. I think I made a joke, about how ‘you wouldn’t believe what Gabe and I do together at night’. Something stupid and braggy and probably a huge overshare. So Gabe pulled me aside and asks me not to say stuff like that. And you know, I’m a fucking idiot. I was probably somewhat drunk, and I only drank that night ‘cause I wanted to feel included or something. He told me not to say stuff like that, and I asked him why, and he said that it made him feel uncomfortable. And like a fucking idiot, I say ‘maybe it only makes you uncomfortable since you know it’s not true’. Of course he was a little angry, who wouldn’t be, and he told me that maybe we should make it true. I agreed, like the idiot I was. So that night we…look, it’s not something I want to get into. But let’s just say I cried a little. Part of the act. Use your fucking imagination. And Gabe would not shut up about it. He told that guy that I cry during sex, and every time we did it again he would ask me if I was gonna cry. Which, you know what? Sometimes I did, but it was still embarrassing. So one day, I got sick of it. I told him that if he brought up me crying again I wouldn’t be able to have sex with him anymore. He made some joke about me cutting my dick off or something, and I was just so pissed off, I told him ‘not my dick, I’ll cut something though’. And he got super serious, talking about how I wouldn’t do that and he’s sorry and it was just a joke. But I didn’t forgive him. Because I’m awful. It was so stupid now that I think about it, but the next time I cried again, and he laughed and patted me on the head and told me to ‘try and hold it together’. And that’s when I did it.”

“You told me he lied about that.”

“No, I’m the fucking liar. Honestly, that shouldn’t surprise you. Once we were done and were both lying in bed that night, I kissed him goodbye and went to the bathroom. I cut open my wrists and waited there on the tile floor until I passed out. Next thing I know, I’m in a hospital bed and Gabe is there standing over me. He’s apologizing and telling me he loves me, and you know what I said to him? ‘You better be fucking sorry.’”

Patrick sat there in shock.

“It was just a fucking joke. And yeah, maybe he took it too far, but that’s nothing. I was a heartless bastard. I tried to kill myself over a joke.”

“You didn’t know what you were doing.” At the very least, Patrick was hoping that was the case.

“Maybe. I was on different meds at the time, and I was probably really depressed just because that’s how my fucking brain works, but I still knew what I was doing.”

“But what about everything you said about him making fun of you for hurting yourself?”

“That was after this. He just got… desensitised, I guess. Or maybe it was his way of coping with the fact that he thought all of it was his fault. Either way. I was the fucking problem. I am the problem. I’m the abusive one. He was just reacting to the awful shit I was doing.”

Patrick’s mind raced. It couldn’t be true, could it? He had to be missing something, there had to be something else Pete hadn’t told him. Or maybe the whole story was nothing but a stretched truth that Pete was telling to fit the narrative of him being a horrible monster.

But Patrick loved that monster. He loved him to death, and he truly did believe that Pete was a sweet person at heart.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. He put his arm around Pete. “You’re not abusive. That’s just what your brain is trying to make you think, alright? It wasn’t your fault.”

“But it was!” Pete cried. “I’m sorry, Patrick, but you really shouldn’t love me. Eventually I’m going to hurt you, I’m going to do something awful and you’ll never be able to forgive me and I’ll never be able to forgive myself. And I’m sorry that’s the way I am. I’m sorry that’s what you got stuck with.”

“Shut up,” Patrick proclaimed. He held Pete so tightly, Pete couldn’t have gotten out if he’d wanted to. “You’re not awful. And you’re not going to do something unforgivable. I refuse to believe that.” His voice cracked, and he knew he was on the verge of crying, but he didn’t care. “I fucking love you, okay? And I know there’s a part of you that really is awful sometimes, and I know sometimes you feel like you have to hurt, and I know that you think you’re the worst person in the world. And it’s not that that’s okay, but you know what? I still love you. Even if I can’t fix that, I still love you. And you know what? Maybe that awful part of you is going to really hurt me someday, but I don’t care. I just want to be with you, alright?”

Pete couldn’t reply. There was a huge part of him saying that Patrick’s words were stupid, that they were the words of someone who had been brainwashed by whatever good parts of Pete there were and who was only going to hurt because of it. But he tried his hardest to shut that part out. He hugged Patrick back.

“I’ll try. I’ll try not to hurt you. I’ll try not to do something stupid. And I know I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try. Because I love you too, okay? And I’m sorry I caused all this bullshit because I was trying to protect you from myself.”

“It’s okay, Pete. It’s gonna be okay.”

They stayed quiet for the remainder of class, Pete’s head resting on Patrick’s shoulder. Pete still didn’t exactly feel happy, but at least he was content at having fixed something. Even if he was still so fucked up, even though he knew he could still ruin everything, at least Patrick wasn’t afraid of him. There was a little bit of Pete’s mind saying that Patrick was stupid for not fearing him, but for once in his life he was glad to just have that love. He wanted to enjoy it.

Pete took the first opportunity after class ended to tell Joe how things went.

_talked to patrick. things went well_

_nice job dude!!!_

_yeah_

_so you’re not gonna stay at my place again tonight?_

_nope. im goin home and having some serious cuddle time._

_haha. gross._

_not that kind of cuddling fuck you_

_;)_

_seriously man no one calls that cuddling_

_they do now_

_i hate you_

_lies_

Pete laughed, stuffing his phone in his pocket and walking into his next class. He felt at least a little happy for the first time since the poetry incident, and it was weirdly amazing.

However, the happiness was short lived. By the end of the day, Pete was caught up in a haze of sleep deprivation and just general shitty feelings. All he wanted to do was get home and be with Patrick. He’d missed so much from that one night of being at Joe’s, it only seemed right for them to spend some serious quality time together.

The moment the both of them were inside, they instantly hopped on the couch and curled up in a blanket together. Pete told Patrick about the coffee shop he and Joe had went to, and Patrick jokingly lectured Pete about drinking too much sugar. Pete snuggled up as close to Patrick as he could, his head resting right on Patrick’s chest with one of his arms wrapped firmly around Pete. It was perfect, in Pete’s mind. He felt warm and safe and calm. Then Patrick said something that made his heart drop.

“Hey Pete? You know how we um… tried things a while ago and you weren’t really up to it?”

“Hm?”

“You were still upset about Gabe and you-“

Pete laughed. “You can say sex, Patrick. Or, if you want, ‘we almost fucked’. Yeah, I remember. Why?”

“Are you up for it now? I don’t mind if you cry a little.”

“What if I cry a lot?”

“Then I’d stop us, are you kidding?”

“True, true. Yeah, I’d be up for it.”

“You’ll have to show me how.”

“Don’t tell me you’re a virgin.” Pete smirked.

“I’ve never done it with a guy! Don’t laugh at me.” Patrick still smiled along with Pete.

“I’m sure you’ll do fine. Come on.”

The two of them stood up and made their way over to Patrick’s bed. Really, it had become their bed, considering Pete had only slept in his own a few times in the months since he’d moved in. Pete had begun to undress when he stopped himself.

“I’m keeping my shirt on.”

“Really?”

“Trust me, it’s better. I’ve done this enough times to know that my horrific scars are a bit of a turn-off.”

“Oh, Petey, you don’t need to do that. You know I love you regardless of that.”

“They’re a turn-off for me too, you know. Trust me, it’s better this way.”

“Fine.”

They finished undressing, lied down together, and did what Joe apparently called “cuddling”. [[A/N: Several readers were upset at the lack of a detailed sex scene. Unfortunately the author was lazy and stupid and just told said readers to use their imaginations.]]

Afterwards, Pete lay on the bed next to Patrick, nearly sweating through his shirt. He wasn’t crying. He felt amazing.

“Fuck, that was good,” Pete gasped out. “Told you you’d figure it out.”

“I knew I would,” Patrick said with a smile. He planted a gentle kiss on Pete’s bright red face. If Pete could have blushed more fiercely, he probably would have.

“I love you,” Pete whispered.

“Love you too.”

Pete slept happily that night, curled up next to Patrick. It felt so good to be back with him, even though it had only been a day. He knew he never wanted to leave Patrick again.

But there was still the nagging problem of his poems in the back of his head. He’d never fixed that. And he didn’t know how he was going to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the lack of glorious smut, I guess. It was omitted mostly so this fic could keep its original rating, but also because people just can’t handle the truth that Pete is a bottom.


	12. Chapter 12

When Pete woke up that morning, he felt more at home than he probably ever had in his life. He was curled up next to a half-asleep Patrick, who only smiled at Pete when he realized he was awake before closing his eyes again. Both of them were shirtless and buried under the blankets, and Pete happily rested his head against Patrick’s bare chest. Patrick was warm and soft and comfortable, and Pete wanted to stay there with him forever.

Patrick wrapped his arms around Pete. He held him close. He never wanted to let go.

“I don’t wanna go to class today, ‘Trick,” Pete whispered. “I just wanna stay here with you.”

“Me too. I really wish we could, baby.”

“Everything is confusing and scary. You’re the only place I feel safe.”

“Awww, Pete…” Patrick held Pete even closer. “We’re gonna work this out. It’ll be okay.”

“I hope so.”

The two of them slowly made their way out of bed. Patrick tried not to stare at Pete’s scars as he got dressed, but it was so hard. Pete’s figure was handsome, but those scars always seemed to pull in Patrick’s eyes. Maybe it was just a natural need to focus on sad things. Still, it upset Patrick.

“Damn it, you’re so pretty,” Patrick thought aloud.

Pete was caught off guard by this statement.

“Thanks?” he said bemusedly.

Patrick moved closer to Pete. He put a hand on his shoulder, feeling Pete’s cuts against his palm. It made him tear up.

“How can you be so perfect, but then…” He gently ran his fingers across the scars on Pete’s arm. Pete looked at him with concern. “So...broken.”

Pete didn’t reply. He just kept on looking at Patrick with those sad puppy-dog eyes.

“I wish I could fix you.”

Pete leaned his head onto Patrick’s shoulder. Patrick put his arms around him and held him tightly.

“I’m sorry,” Pete whispered. “I’m sorry I’m broken. I’m sorry I’ll be like this forever.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Patrick told him. “I still love you. I love you so much. That’s why it makes me sad to see you sad. To see you broken up like this.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. Like you said, it’ll work out.”

“Yeah. You’re right. Let’s just get ready and then we’ll go fix this.”

The two of them arrived in class and silently sat down. All that really mattered to them was getting through the day. Even if they couldn’t fix anything.

Pete couldn’t help but rest his head on Patrick’s shoulder as the two of them sat in class. He felt safer that way. In response, Patrick wrapped his arm around Pete. Patrick loved Pete so much, and he seemed to have some primal urge to keep him close. It was like he was saying “he’s mine, and I won’t let you hurt him.”

Unfortunately, Patrick wasn’t exactly the strongest guy in the world, and even if he wanted to protect Pete from anyone who dared try to hurt him, he simply couldn’t do that. It scared him, because he wanted to keep Pete safe. He loved him so much.

As the two of them walked out of class, they were on the lookout for Gabe. Patrick was looking forward to telling him off for being so awful to Pete now that he knew the whole story, and Pete was just scared of coming across him after reliving everything that had happened between them. Patrick put his arm over Pete’s shoulder, still holding him close for as long as he could as the two of them walked down the hall. Just as they were about to go to their classes, Gabe appeared in front of them seemingly out of nowhere.

Pete could almost feel the anger emanating from Patrick as the two of them stood before Gabe. It didn’t feel like a real confrontation. The way Pete saw it, this was just going to end up as a repeat of the incident at Joe’s party.

“Patrick,” Gabe said calmly.

“Gabe,” Patrick replied, before muttering a series of expletives under his breath.

“I see you’re still with… this real catch of a guy.” Gabe didn’t even make eye contact with Pete. Patrick glared at him.

“He really is a catch, you know,” Patrick growled. “He may not be perfect all the time, but he’s sweet and loving and soft and… he _is_ perfect, okay? I know it doesn’t seem that way, but he is!”

“Believe what you want,” Gabe told him, shaking his head. “Sooner or later, you’re gonna have to acknowledge that he’s fucked up. He’s not a good person, and you’re going to have to accept that eventually.”

“You’re wrong about him. Just because you couldn’t love him doesn’t mean no one can, alright? Leave him alone. He’s been through enough because of you.”

“You know what? Fine. Just don’t come crying to me when he ruins your life, alright?”

“He won’t,” Patrick said as he and Pete walked away. “I know he won’t.”

The pair then kissed each other goodbye and went of to their classes. Pete was upset to have to be away from Patrick, but he knew he’d get to see him later that day, so he still felt alright.

As Pete sat in class that day, excitedly awaiting the moment when he’d get home and see Patrick again, he began to notice something. No one seemed to be avoiding him. Of course, no one was really talking to him either, but that was normal. It seemed like Patrick had been right after all. The whole poetry situation was beginning to blow over.

When Pete stepped through the door of his and Patrick’s apartment, he practically swept Patrick into a hug the moment he noticed him in the doorway.

“Did you miss me?” Patrick asked, laughing.

“Yes. I missed you so much.” Pete was smiling. He wasn’t desperate for Patrick, he was just happy to see the person he loved again. And that felt good.

“Do you wanna go out to dinner tonight?”

“Why? What’s the occasion?” Pete tried to hide his excitement. It occurred to him that he and Patrick hadn’t even been on a real date yet.

“I don’t know. I thought we could just have a nice little date. Like boyfriends do.” Patrick knew he sounded painfully awkward, but he didn’t care.

“That sounds amazing! Where do you wanna go?”

“I don’t know. What are you thinking?”

“Pizza?”

“You’re always thinking pizza,” Patrick laughed. “Hey, I hear there’s a new place near campus that’s supposed to be good. Deep-dish and everything.”

“Sounds amazing,” Pete grinned. “I can’t wait.”

While Pete and Patrick waited until it was a more acceptable time to go to dinner, they cuddled for a while on the couch. Pete enjoyed being wrapped up in Patrick’s arms so much, he almost didn’t want to leave. He felt so safe and happy with Patrick. It was magical.

Finally, at around five o’clock, the two headed out, called a cab, and took a ride to the restaurant.

“You two on a date?” the driver asked. She sounded genuinely kind. Pete and Patrick just looked at each other with lovestruck eyes for a minute before Pete finally answered.

“Yeah. It’s our first real date out. I’m so excited,” Pete gushed.

“Stop it, you’re embarrassing me,” Patrick laughed. He gave Pete a quick kiss on the cheek, and Pete turned bright red.

“You two have a good time, then,” the cab driver told them as she dropped them off at the restaurant.

It was a smaller place, just one main dining room with a bunch of tables and a counter where people could pick up pizza to go. Pete and Patrick got a table for two, and within five minutes of sitting down Pete nearly set his hoodie on fire when he reached over the candle on the table to hold Patrick’s hand.

While it wasn’t the most romantic meal ever, the two of them felt even more in love on that night they had before. As they shared a cheese pizza (they had gotten cheese because they couldn’t agree which toppings to get) and exchanged loving glances across the table, occasionally earning themselves an awkward glance from the waiter, they both felt warm and happy.

“Did you ever thank Joe?” Patrick asked between bites of pizza.

“For what?”

“For setting us up. I mean, if it wasn’t for him, we probably wouldn’t have gotten together.”

“I think we would have eventually. Joe or no, we were clearly meant for each other.”

“You really think we would have realized that?”

“Yeah. I think I’d be smart enough to realize when the love of my life was sitting right in front of me.”

“Says the guy who almost lit his shirt on fire with a dinner candle.”

“Fair enough.” The two of them exchanged a laugh.

“Seriously, though. I’m so glad I’m with you.”

“Me too. You mean so much to me. I mean, you’ve already helped me through a lot.”

“Glad to help, baby. I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” Pete blew a kiss to Patrick across the table, not wanting to almost set his shirt on fire for the second time in that meal.

By the time they finished, it was already dark outside. They must have spent quite a long time making lovey-dovey faces at each other. Pete briefly fell asleep on Patrick’s shoulder during the cab ride home, and Patrick loved it so much. He was so cute when he slept.

The moment they arrived home, Pete climbed into bed wearing just his underwear and a hoodie. He curled up under a blanket and looked at Patrick lovingly as he got undressed and climbed into bed next to him.

“Long day, Petey?” he asked.

“I dunno,” Pete replied, pressing his head against Patrick’s chest. “Think I just wanna cuddle with you some more.”

“That sounds amazing,” Patrick replied, pulling Pete in close. Before he knew it, Pete was sleeping soundly in his arms.

“I’m so glad I met you,” he whispered to the sleeping boy. “I hope you know how much you mean to me.”

Pete didn’t wake up, but he did nuzzle himself up even closer to Patrick. Patrick kissed him.

Together, they slept soundly and peacefully, and they were as happy as they could ever hope to be.


End file.
